A Look That's Made For You
by canarian
Summary: Blaine Anderson is about to turn 30, and if he has to design one more logo for another small, quaint, but, you know, edgy-retro cupcake shop, he's going to fling himself off his 10-story office building. That is until an art director books a gorgeous male model who is just a few inches too short.
1. Chapter 1

"I'm dead, absolutely dead," Yvonne says. She pulls her hands through her shoulder-length brown hair and throws her arms up in the air. "

"What's wrong?" Blaine asks, looking up from his screen where the pink and white stripes are burning into his brain.

"My model for the One West campaign is about four inches too short," she says, slamming a sheet of proofs down on Blaine's desk.

"Then why'd you hire him?"

"Well, just look at him," Yvonne says, pointing to one of the shots. "That jawline. Boy's got face for days. He's perfect."

Blaine looks down at the images in front of him. They're small and a little dark from being run off their office's crappy laser printer, but she's right. His jawline is chiseled, but not too harsh. His body is thin, but toned. He doesn't look starved like the models this designer usually books, but he's not as thick as a Calvin Klein underwear model either.

"How tall is he?" Blaine asks.

"Five-10, I think," she says. "Maybe 5-11. Doesn't matter. Either way I'm dead."

"Can't you just use a shot of another model?" Blaine knows they never only shoot one model per outfit for Jan West. She's too important of a client.

"The other guy who wore this has swollen collagen lips, Blaine."

"Oh," he says, looking back at the proofs. The model really is stunning. He can't be more than 19 or 20. So he's probably not even done growing yet. Still, Blaine knows how particular Jan West is about having models that are at least 6-foot-2 in her campaigns. Her line is famous for her distinctive skinny-legged trousers and she thinks the best way to create even more drama is to pick lithe models with extra long legs. This model has that in spades – and then some – but if he's only 5-10, they have serious problems. The One West line is their agency's bread and butter. If Yvonne screws this up, they could all be out of work.

"You want me to do some retouching?" he asks.

"Oh my god, could you?" Yvonne shrieks. "I would kiss your feet, Blaine Anderson."

He laughs. "No need for that. Anything to stop working on this stupid logo," he says, gesturing toward the pink-and-white monstrosity on his screen.

"Another cupcake shop?" she asks.

"Crème de la Cuppe," he says with a groan. "With two p's and an e."

Yvonne looks like she's biting back a laugh, and Blaine can't help but roll his eyes.

"I know, right?" he says. "It's like they're just mocking me now."

"I think Lorelei just likes to see your face when she gives you those projects," Yvonne muses. "Maybe if you hid your disdain better…"

"There is no hiding how I feel about logos for cupcake shops and vintage boutiques," Blaine says. "It's just the way it is."

"At least you've got eye candy to keep you company for a while this afternoon," she says, giving Blaine a wink.

"I can't even tell you how happy I am that you screwed up so royally, Yvonne," he teases. "Thanks for brightening my day."

"Anything for you, cupcake."

"I told you to stop calling me that."

"But it fits so well," she replies as she skips out of the room.

"See if I do you any more favors," he calls out after her.

Blaine rolls his eyes and turns back to his computer. He opens Yvonne's file for One West and finds the most recent proofs. The files are all numbered and then labeled "OneWest_Hummel_Fall13."

"Hummel," Blaine says out loud as he wonders what the model's first name is.

He scrolls down to see which ones Yvonne's marked as possibilities and opens them up. The first one is a powerful image of the young model staring straight on into camera. His hands are in his pockets and his chin is tilted downward, lips drawn in a straight line. His jaw is set and the tightness accentuates the strong set of it. The pose makes him look broader and older than he is, but the playful light in his eyes belies his youth.

"You've got a mischievous streak in you, don't you Mr. Hummel?" Blaine says aloud as he opens the next photo.

It's a similar pose, but in this one the model is smirking. Blaine smiles to himself. Definitely mischievous, he thinks. He wonders what the kid's story is. Where he's from. What his family is like. He wonders if he's from some elite east coast family or a small, tight-knit Midwestern town. Blaine wonders if he was bullied growing up or if he had been a popular guy. Maybe he had snuck in under the radar like Blaine had.

As Blaine sets to work on the images, tweaking them just enough to make the model look taller, he starts to develop a back story for the young man in the photos. Only child, parents divorced. Was discovered in a mall in Minnesota his freshman year of college. He smiles to himself as he pictures him in jeans and an ill-fitting t-shirt. It doesn't suit him. This man deserves to always wear designer threads.

Blaine zooms in on the model's left thigh. He needs to make sure the muscle doesn't end up awkwardly shaped as he tweaks the image. It needs to look realistic. As he inspects the way the fabric drapes over the model's leg, he admires the faint pin stripe; the trousers really are fantastic, well-fitted and flattering on the model's long legs. Blaine really loves the One West line; it's definitely his style: classic but with a modern edge. But the pants never quite fit him right because he's not built for the cigarette leg trousers. Still, he can appreciate the look.

"His legs are plenty long for these pants," Blaine muses to himself. "I don't know what this woman's problem is. He's practically all legs."

And then his breath catches in his throat.

"Well maybe not _all_ legs."

There, on full display between his legs and nearly life size on Blaine's monitor, is the faint outline of what can only be the model's cock. It doesn't look to be even partially erect, but it's definitely not Blaine's imagination. It's there. The bulge is distinct and just…there. He might need to fix that too. The pants aren't very forgiving in that area, Blaine notes. Or maybe it's just this particular model.

Blaine swallows thickly as he tries to calm his breathing and remain professional. He's done this kind of work a million times. It's no big deal.

He shifts in his chair as he scrolls just enough so that the model's crotch is no longer in the frame and he's focused solely on his thigh. He sets to work creating extra leg length for the model and tries not to think about the other corrections he needs to make. He needs to keep his focus for such precise work.

When Yvonne returns after lunch, Blaine is just finishing up the first photo.

"Nice work," she says, leaning over Blaine's shoulder. "He looks great."

"Thanks," Blaine says. "It's slow going, but I think we'll be okay."

Yvonne flops down in her desk chair and huffs out a harsh breath.

"So, Lorelei saw the test shots from the One West job and wants me to hire that model again," she says.

Blaine turns to face her.

"So that's good, right?" he asks. "She liked who you picked. The first time you chose the models too."

"Right," she says running her hands through her thick bangs. "Except we have to doctor the photos…and more than normal."

"Oh."

"Yeah….oh," she says leaning back in her chair to stare at the glaring fluorescent lights above her desk. "We're screwed."

"Maybe not," Blaine says. "Now that we know what we need to do….no problem. You make him look as tall as possible at those shoots, and I'll work my magic here. Piece of cake."

"I don't know, Blaine. That's a lot of extra work for you," she says. "And me."

"We'll manage," he says with a shrug. "Plus it's a really great opportunity for you. She's trusting you with a major client."

Yvonne smiles at him. "And you don't mind the eye candy either, right Blaine?"

"Well I'm certainly not opposed to looking at an attractive male model for hours at a time, no."

"Have I told you how glad I am that I hired you?"

"Not since last Friday," he says.

By the end of the day, Blaine has gotten through only two of the images Yvonne wants to use, so he saves the rest to his flash drive and plans to work on them over the weekend.

He doesn't get much work done, though, because he spends most of Friday evening thinking about the new One West model. The way his left eyebrow quirks up when he smiles. The few wayward hairs that make it look even more lifted as his perfectly crooked smirk tilts the opposite direction. The gleam in the soft blue-green-gold hues of his eyes.

The way the One West trousers hug snuggly to his lean, muscular thighs.

On Saturday afternoon he opens up the files on his laptop and stares at the model's profile for a good half hour.

One of the things that's always been great about his job is that most male models have really great, chiseled jawlines. Blaine's always been a sucker for a strong jaw. Something to nibble at.

But this model doesn't _just_ have a strong jaw. He does, but it's so perfectly paired with a slightly upturned nose, that can only be described as graceful, and his high, sharp cheekbones. Something about his profile is elven and sexual at the same time, and it makes his entire face look like it's carved from marble.

Even his hair looks sculpted — high and brushed back from his face, it's just begging to be touched. Blaine imagines what it would be like to run his fingers through the man's hair, tugging on the thick strands as he bites at his jawline.

It's like Orlando Bloom and Viggo Mortensen had this exotic love-child of a man, slightly rugged, a tiny hint of something almost feminine, and nothing but drop-dead, undeniably, breathtakingly gorgeous thanks to the combination of it all.

Blaine has a fleeting thought that if he were still sculpting – like he had for about a semester and a half in college – he'd want to create life-sized statues of this guy. He's just that stunning. His posture, his wide stance, his strong shoulders and tiny waist. If Blaine could create a perfect specimen of a man from scratch, he's certain this would be it.

He forces himself to work on editing the pictures, though, getting slightly more done than he had at work on Friday.

On Sunday evening, he opens up the last two images that he hadn't had time to work on. His breath catches in his throat as he takes in the expression on the model's face. His lips are pulled into a slight pout, almost sulking like a petulant, angry child. His bottom lip looks plush and red and so ripe and … god such a nice place to lay a head of a cock.

Blaine almost chokes on his own air at the thought. He looks around his empty living room as if there were someone there to catch him having dirty thoughts about a male model he's never even met. He blushes despite the fact that he's alone. He feels guilty. This guy could have a family, a grandma named Mildred. A sister. A girlfriend … or a boyfriend maybe?

He squints and looks into the man's eyes again, trying to keep his thoughts a little more PG. The model's expression reads a little bored in this shot, but his eyes tell a different story. Seductive, teasing. He can see why Lorelei and Yvonne wanted to use him. It's hard to find someone with such expressive eyes.

Blaine wonders what he looks like when he comes.

He quickly closes that image and tries to catch his breath. The room suddenly seems warmer. He tries to focus his thoughts on his work. He looks at the one image left on his screen.

The last shot shows the model with his head thrown back and to the side, which makes his neck look impossibly longer. The tendons are straining a little with the twist, and it's one of the sexiest things Blaine has ever seen. He really wants to see this guy in person. Take him out to dinner. Bring him back to his apartment. Strip him naked. Hear him scream out his name.

Blaine sets his laptop down on the couch and heads for the bathroom. He suddenly feels like a nice, long shower.

* * *

Monday morning Blaine rolls into work bleary-eyed and edgy from a lack of sleep and too much self-inflicted sexual tension. He makes a beeline for the break room and is about to pour himself a cup of coffee when he sees Lorelei standing in the doorway.

"Blaine, Yvonne is home with the flu. I'm going to need you to handle tomorrow's photo shoot. She'll email you our notes on styling and our test shots from the location."

"No problem, Lorelei," Blaine says beaming. "What account is it for?"

Lorelei is engrossed in something on her phone and she doesn't look up. Blaine pours his coffee into a chipped mug that reads "I shot the serif" and waits for her to respond.

"Um…One West," she says still looking at her phone.

Blaine swallows hard, almost dropping his mug. "Are you sure?"

"Is there a problem?" she asks, looking up at Blaine over the rim of her glasses. Her gaze is piercing and her patience is obviously thin.

"No," he squeaks out, embarrassed that he sounds so nervous. He clears his throat. "No. It's just a big account. Are you sure I'm the right…."

"It's our _biggest_ account, Blaine," she interrupts, tacking on a sigh. "And if we don't get those shots done tomorrow we lose the location. I can't wait for Yvonne to get over this plague she has. And everyone else is busy. So yes, I'm sure you can handle it."

Blaine heads to his desk and sits down in his chair with a thud. He almost upends his coffee when his foot hits the side of his desk.

He should probably be worried about his first shot at directing a photo shoot, but instead he's worried about meeting the new model.

How is he going to look this guy in the eye knowing what he had fantasized about over the weekend? On the upside, he considers, he'll get to see this guy up close and in person. He's not sure if he wants to laugh or cry.

So instead he emails Yvonne.

From: banderson (a) price-designs . com  
To: ytaylor (a) price-designs . com  
Subject: :(

Yo-vinny,

I'm sorry to hear you're under the weather. Need some chicken soup? I open a mean can of Campbell's. (Stop giving me that look… I don't fit _all_ the gay stereotypes. I like football, remember?)

So I'm sure you know, I'm covering the One West shoot for you tomorrow. Don't forget to send me your notes. I'm a little freaked, tbh.

Also, I may or may not have a bit of a crush on that male model. Haven't decided yet if this is the universe's way of mocking me or telling me to go for it.

-B

From: ytaylor (a) price-designs . com  
To: banderson (a) price-designs . com  
Subject: RE: :(

Notes are attached. You'll do great. Don't forget to tell Zach that he needs an extra strobe for tomorrow. The light in that loft is abysmal.

God I feel like I got hit by a train. Soup won't help at this point. I think I just need to die for a few days.

Regarding your crush, the kid's kind of a dick, if that helps. Gorgeous, but basically a total bitch. Swim at your own risk.

~Yvonne :)

* * *

In spite of Yvonne's scathing review of the model, whose name Blaine stupidly forgot to ask, he spends longer than normal getting ready for work the next day. He pulls out a red silk bowtie, which he hasn't worn since college, and a grey sweater vest. He decides to dress the look down a bit with jeans, but the completed ensemble looks about as fashionable as he gets.

Blaine double checks to make sure he's not wearing anything recognizable from either a department store or a rival designer. Either one would get him mocked relentlessly by the stylist. Ben is the kind of guy to pull out your collar to check the label on your jacket. Blaine figures Brooks Brothers is safe for this particular shoot.

He probably goes a little crazy on the gel in his hair because he's so jittery. Three cups of coffee will do that. It's just shy of a full helmet, but there's no time to fix it, so he'll just rock the Clark Gable look today.

He only fumbles twice with the lock. When he finally gets his key to slide in and turns the tumbler, he realizes he left his phone in the bedroom. He leaves his keys hanging in the door as he retrieves it. By the time he gets in his car, he's running about 10 minutes late and traffic is a nightmare.

Blaine gets a text from Yvonne just as he's pulling up to the loft they're using for the shoot. He nearly throws his phone across the alley as he thumbs the lock screen. God, why is he so nervous?

For good measure, he shuts the car door on his hand. He sucks on his thumb a little and shakes it out, trying to force the pain out through his fingertips. He looks down at his phone, feeling his fingers begin to throb.

_His name is Kurt, btw. ;)_


	2. Chapter 2

After Blaine manages to pull himself together, wiping his hands on his jeans three times to dry his sweaty palms, he heads into the loft they're using for the photo shoot and sets out to find Ben. He needs to give him Yvonne's notes for the day and try to get organized for the shoot.

Blaine finds the stylist crouched down on the ground in front of one of the models, who has his back to Blaine. Ben is hemming the pair of grey trousers the model is wearing, and as he pulls and tugs at the crisp fabric, Blaine's eyes are drawn up the model's long leg to the curve of a perfectly formed backside. It's the kind of ass worthy of passionate worship, given time and the right circumstances. Embarrassed by his momentary indulgence, Blaine clears his throat quietly, as if that might clear his head of his more nefarious thoughts.

Ben looks up at the sound and waves when he sees Blaine.

The model turns his head to follow Ben's gaze. And, of course … it's Kurt. Blaine's intake of breath is so sharp that he has to cough to cover the sound. Because Kurt Hummel is even more beautiful in person.

Blaine stares open-mouthed for a minute.

Kurt purses his lips and raises both his eyebrows when he sees Blaine standing in the doorway, obviously confused by his presence, or perhaps annoyed at the blatant ogling that Blaine is indulging in. He looks down to Ben, giving him the same questioning look.

"This is Blaine, our art director for the day," Ben mumbles around the pins between his lips.

Blaine steps forward and smiles. "Yvonne's got the flu," he says, unable to think of anything else to say.

"I know," Ben replies. "She fill you in on the concept?"

Blaine nods. He walks around behind Ben and takes in the full outfit: skinny-legged grey trousers and a jacket that looks to be a cross between a leather bomber and a straightjacket. It looks amazing on Kurt.

"Hi," Blaine says, extending his hand to Kurt.

Kurt looks down at it like it might burn him and slowly drags his eyes back up to Blaine's face.

"Charmed," he says with a lifted eyebrow. He leans forward to look in the mirror, attempting to fix his already flawless hair. It's swooped up in a '50s-esque pompadour, that should look ridiculous. But Blaine thinks it looks perfect, and he almost says so before he realizes he's still holding his hand out and Kurt has completely left him hanging.

Blaine slowly withdraws his hand and shoves it unceremoniously in his pocket. "Likewise," he mumbles under his breath.

Yvonne wasn't kidding. This kid's an ice queen. It's kind of annoying to be honest. It's also kind of hot.

"Zach here yet?" Blaine asks.

"I think he's setting up some lights over by the east-facing windows." Ben jerks his head over his shoulder and Blaine heads off in that direction.

"What did I do to get saddled with the newbie?" Kurt says just loud enough to be sure Blaine hears it.

"Play nice," Ben replies, not bothering to conceal his chuckle.

* * *

Blaine tries to settle his nerves as he helps Zach finish getting set up. But between his apprehension at directing his first shoot and the ire he'd drawn from Kurt, his nerves are positively frazzled.

By the time they call Kurt in for a few test shots, Blaine's heart is racing and he's certain his hands are shaking. But he's afraid to look. He closes his eyes and takes a few calming breaths before Kurt appears on set. When he opens them, he feels, not calm necessarily, but at least he's somewhat composed.

"Ben, I think one of the pins came undone in the back," Kurt says as he enters Blaine's periphery.

And just like that, Blaine's heart starts beating out a rapid tempo again. He tries to discreetly wipe his hands on his jeans, but if the scornful look he gets from Kurt is any indication, he was unsuccessful in hiding it.

Ben hurries to fix the back of Kurt's jacket, a mess of clothespins and binder clips keeping it snug to his body, while Kurt stands perfectly still. Blaine is again reminded of a Greek statue. He's just so beautiful standing there in the warm, filtered sunlight, being poked and prodded as he waits patiently to be photographed.

Once Ben is finished, he nods to Zach, who says he's sure he's got the lighting right now. And Zach starts shooting rapid fire. Kurt moves around so smoothly it's like he's rehearsing an elaborate ballet. He's all long limbs and strong lines. It makes Blaine's breath speed up, as he's overtaken by his own nerves. He hasn't the slightest idea what he's doing. And Kurt … Kurt is perfect.

He considers offering up a comment or two when the angle doesn't seem quite right. He wants to say something about how Kurt's face would look better lit from the left side, but he's not sure if that's what Yvonne normally does. He's been on photo shoots before, but only for home goods catalogs. The "models" don't really move that much. It's set up a shot, take a few frames, move on. This is an entirely different animal. And Kurt is there, looking all gorgeous and judgmental. And Blaine can't feel his feet.

"Blaine, I'm going to start losing the natural light soon. Is any of this working?" Zach asks, dropping his camera to his side and glancing over his shoulder at Blaine.

"You'd think an art director would _offer_ his opinion," Kurt sniffs, lifting his head just a little higher.

Kurt's venom pulls Blaine out of his daze. He clears his throat and gives Kurt a pointed look, suddenly spurred to action.

"Yes that's good, Zach, but we need him to seem _taller_," Blaine calls out. "Can we try it maybe from this angle?" He crouches down a little and mimes holding a camera. "Might make his legs look longer. And see if you can get more light on his left side."

Kurt's face falls a little before he schools it into a stony expression. "My legs are fine," he says. "Not that you'd know the difference, Gidget."

"Maybe it's the pose, then," Blaine replies, standing up. "Could you try something less…bitchy, perhaps?"

"Excuse me?" Kurt says, no longer resembling a high-end model, but instead a belligerent teenager with the way he's looking down his nose at Blaine. "If you'd just direct this shoot instead of worrying about my mood, we'd all be better off. If you want poses that make my legs look longer, all you had to do was fucking say so."

"Gentlemen!" Zach shouts. "Let's focus, please. We only have this location for one day."

"Fine," Kurt huffs. His face relaxes and he falls effortlessly into a new pose. All signs of petulant child are instantly gone, the professional façade once again drawn over Kurt's features.

"Fine," Blaine echoes.

If Blaine didn't hate to lose an argument, he might compliment Kurt on the choice. Because it _does_ make Kurt's legs look longer, and, if it's possible, his face more striking. Combined with the angle Zach's shooting from, it just might work.

The rest of the shoot goes more smoothly and Blaine starts to find his footing, suggesting poses for Kurt and helping Zach to move his lights while Ben gets Kurt ready in the second outfit. Two other models show up after lunch – David and Mike – and Blaine has better luck befriending them.

They chat about their hobbies – David, a muscular black man with a friendly smile, likes to play rugby, having lived in the UK until he was seven; Mike, who is quiet and definitely of Asian heritage, used to be a professional dancer, but gave it up when he found out modeling paid better. He still tries out for chorus roles on occasion to keep his feet wet.

Kurt, however, still tall and mysterious as ever, sulks in a corner in between shots, eyes glued to his phone while he sips a Perrier. Blaine shoots him sidelong glances periodically, wondering why he's so distant. Kurt looks pretty lonely compared to everyone else. The crew, the models, Blaine. They all chat animatedly, laugh at each other's jokes and in general, seem to get along. But Kurt hardly interacts with anyone. It makes Blaine's heart ache in an odd way. Why should he care?

He shrugs it off more than once that day.

By the time they wrap at the end of the day, Blaine is feeling like an ass for blowing up at Kurt. Even if Kurt had been short with him, it was no excuse to bite back so harshly. It was unprofessional and really not like Blaine at all.

He finds Kurt near the back of the loft, packing up a leather satchel and looking even more stunning in his street clothes. David and Mike seem to be making plans for the weekend, but either Kurt is ignoring them, or they're ignoring him. David smiles at Blaine and winks. Blaine returns his smile and clears his throat out of nerves.

Kurt must hear him because he looks up. His expression is warm and inviting until he sees who it is. When he makes eye contact with Blaine, he sighs and rolls his eyes before returning to his task. Blaine wonders who he saves those friendly looks for and finds himself really wishing it was him.

"Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot…"

"Did we?" Kurt replies. "I think you pretty much put your foot in it." He doesn't look up from his bag and continues to pack up his belongings. When he finishes, he shrugs it over his shoulder and winds a lightweight scarf around his neck. "We done here?" he asks.

"Uh….yes?"

"Is that a question, or can I go?"

"Um, you can…you can go," Blaine says, eyes wide in shock.

"Wonderful." He gives Blaine a tight-lipped smile heads for the door. "See you on Thursday, Ben," he calls out over his shoulder. And then he's gone.

Blaine is left feeling raw and jittery and something else he can't quite put his finger on.

* * *

"Zach sent us the proofs from yesterday's shoot. Yvonne's still out, so I'm going to need you to edit them down before the end of the day."

Blaine swallows the bite of turkey sandwich he had been chewing and coughs a little as the still too big pieces catch in his throat.

"Is that a problem, Blaine?" Lorelei asks. "I could always ask Marcus to do it and you could finish up that Crème de la Cuppe logo."

Blaine shakes his head. "No, Lorelei. I'm on it. Really."

She smiles victoriously. "That's what I thought."

Blaine turns to finish his lunch, just as she points her pen at him and adds, "Oh, and I need them before my four o'clock meeting with Jan West."

Blaine hurries to finish his sandwich and heads back to his desk. He opens up the files with the previous day's date and his desktop fills with thumbnails from the loft shoot. About two-thirds of them are Kurt. Blaine didn't realize how much time they'd spent shooting with him. He remembers Zach really getting into a couple poses and Ben restyling one of the suits at least twice. But how had he managed to dominate the shoot with two other models there for half the day?

He throws out a couple where Kurt's eyes are closed or where his hands are covering the belt and focuses on the rest of the shots.

It's obvious in his posture that Kurt really feels above everything when he's modeling. And he is. But he's also a bit of a puzzle because there are some images where he just looks different. The first five from the second restyle of the suit look altogether different from the rest – softer, emotional almost.

Blaine tries to remember what was going on when they took those shots. He had been talking to Zach about moving the chair in the background of the shot. And Ben had been holding up different ties to the suit while he chatted with Kurt. Something about his family.

"_How's your dad doing?" he asked. _

"_Better," Kurt said. "Still gets tired easily."_

"A chink in your armor Mr. Hummel," Blaine says to himself, filing that away for later. Something to talk about maybe when – if – he gets another chance.

In the next shot, Kurt is looking to his right. Just a quick glance, and it's only captured in one frame. What is he looking at? Blaine wracks his brain. He had been goofing off a bit, singing, dancing around, joking with Mike and David. Had Kurt seen them?

Something in his eyes for those few frames convinces him that there's more to Kurt than snark and disdain. Why is this gorgeous man so angry? Who or what has hurt him so deeply that he has no choice but to attack the world before it can attack him? Why is he so detached from everyone and everything?

Suddenly, Blaine is hit with an overwhelming urge to _know_ Kurt. To truly understand him, know what makes him tick. Take him under his wing and teach him to laugh again. He looks like he hasn't laughed in ages.

"He looks taller."

Blaine starts when he sees Lorelei appear over his shoulder. She leans in toward his screen.

"Yeah," Blaine replies. "I uh…had Zach try some new angles, and I told Kurt to try to elongate his legs as much as possible."

"Kurt?"

"The model." Blaine points to the screen. "His name is Kurt." His face feels suddenly warm.

"I see," Lorelei says, tilting her head to look at Blaine. She raises an eyebrow and then glances back at the screen. "Jan likes them to have long legs. Good thinking. I mean, this kid's got some nice stems, but he looks eight feet tall here. She's going to love it."

She lays a hand on his shoulder and pats it. Blaine's shoulders relax as he turns back to his screen. Kurt really does look taller. The shots are good.

Blaine smiles. "Thanks."

"Nice work, Blaine. Maybe we should have you art direct more often."

She nods once and heads back to her office.

Blaine gets back to editing the photos and wonders if Kurt's legs are as strong as they look. Is he a runner? Does he do yoga? Maybe both.

The more shots of Kurt Blaine edits, the more he's intrigued by him. Kurt's an undeniable enigma, and Blaine really wants to break through his hardened exterior. If he ever sees him again, that is.

* * *

Yvonne returns to work on Monday, still slightly sniffly, but mostly back to her normal self.

"Looks like you made an impression," Yvonne says, blowing over the top of her coffee mug.

"On…?"

"Lorelei," she says with a smirk. "I just came from her office and she wants me to take you with me on the One West shoot next week."

"She what?"

Blaine turns in his chair to face Yvonne, eyes wide.

"Yep, and I saw those shots, Blaine. You fucking killed it. That Kurt kid looks even better than on the first shoot. Legs for _days_." She bites into her bagel and grins as she throws a sideways glance at Blaine. "Not to mention, he looked hot in that suit."

"Stop."

"What?" she says blinking her eyes in fake innocence as she licks cream cheese from her bottom lip. "You don't think he looked hot?"

"That's beside the point," Blaine replies. He turns back to his desk. "And anyway, you were right. He's a bitch."

"He definitely has an attitude. Did he do the eyebrow thing?"

"God…yes." He spins around in his chair.

"And it makes you want to slap him and kiss him at the same time didn't it?"

"Kind of," Blaine says. "What is that?"

"Models," Yvonne says, taking another sip of her coffee. "They're all the same. Hot as hell….and they know it."

"I don't think Kurt's like that," Blaine says.

"Oh?"

"Yeah." Blaine twirls a pen on his desk. "There's something — I don't know … _different_ about him."

"Oooh, does wittle Blainey have a crush?"

"Shut up," he says. "I don't know why I talk to you."

"Because we share an office," Yvonne says. "And I'm your boss. You don't have a choice."

She puts down her bagel and gives Blaine a serious look. "This guy really got to you, huh?"

"No," Blaine says.

"Uh-huh…sure."

"He didn't," Blaine insists. "It's just … Okay. Have you ever just had a feeling about someone? Like you just need to know more."

"Wow…you've got it bad, Romeo."

"It's not like that," Blaine says, turning back to his screen. "I just feel like he needs a friend maybe. He looks lonely." Blaine tilts his head to one side.

"Then why is he working so hard to keep everyone at arm's length?"

Blaine bites his lip. "Good question," he says.


	3. Chapter 3

"Whoa," Yvonne says when she picks him up Tuesday morning. "You look hot."

"Uh…thanks?" Blaine says as he climbs into the small, rented SUV.

"No really. I mean, you always look good, but this is more … relaxed. More you."

"So I'm not normally me?" Blaine asks, scrunching his face in confusion.

"No, but this is you, you. Trust me. It's good."

"I just wanted to be comfortable," Blaine says, looking down at his sweater and smoothing his hand over his jeans. "Last time I felt overdressed."

For his second photo shoot with Kurt, Blaine had decided to tone down his wardrobe a bit. He'd left his hair mostly gel-free and chosen a deep red cardigan to wear with his jeans. Nothing special, and though he knows it looks good on him, he just wants to look like he's not trying to impress anyone, least of all Kurt.

"Whatever you say, dear," Yvonne replies as she playfully pinches his cheek.

Blaine ducks out of her reach.

"Please don't act like this all day. I'd like to retain some semblance of professionalism."

"I'm always professional," she says, tossing her hair over her shoulder with a laugh.

"Right," Blaine says, buckling his seat belt. "Let's just go."

* * *

The photo shoot is for One West's holiday campaign and they're on location at an estate a few miles outside of the city. It's one of those places that Blaine thinks looks like it would be perfect to live in, but in reality would be far more work than it's worth. There's so much open space that would be impossible to decorate – at least not in a way that would feel homey or cozy – and it would never be clean unless you could afford to have a live-in housekeeping staff.

It is, however, perfect for a photo shoot and it's decorated for the holidays – a large, ostentatious tree in the center of the grand foyer – even though it's only August and the heat outside is unbearable right now. Blaine's kind of regretting the sweater, to be honest. It was fine in the air conditioning of his apartment and the car, but now, while he's helping Zach set up lights and moving decorations and furniture with Yvonne, he's starting to sweat a little.

"You could take the sweater off, you know," Yvonne says when she sees Blaine pulling at the sleeves yet again.

"I'm fine," Blaine insists.

He won't admit it, but he refuses to take it off until Kurt has a chance to see him in it. He knows it's nothing special, but schlepping around in a plain t-shirt definitely won't impress. And he _wants_ Kurt to notice. He doesn't even consider what that little desire might mean.

About 20 minutes later, the models still haven't arrived, and the room is stiflingly hot now that the sunlight is streaming in though the front windows. Blaine caves and yanks his cardigan over his head, not bothering to unbutton it. His t-shirt comes with it and he has to pull it down to keep from completely disrobing in the middle of the photo shoot.

He hears a small choking sound and turns to see Kurt standing in the entryway, staring wide-eyed. They hold eye contact for a few tense moments, neither one looking like they know what to say. Just as Blaine opens his mouth, about to say hi, Kurt speaks.

"Is this the kind of operation Price is running now?" Kurt says, rolling his eyes. "Can't even keep your shirt on?"

"Sorry?" Blaine says. He shuffles his feet uncomfortably, wondering why everything comes out sounding like a question when he talks to Kurt.

"That's starting to be a theme," Kurt replies, lifting a paper coffee cup to his mouth.

Blaine watches as Kurt swallows and licks his lips. Blaine wonders how he is able to drink coffee in this heat without breaking a sweat. He also considers that Kurt might actually look quite delicious gleaming with sweat. Blaine knows he's staring and he really should say something before Kurt thinks he's a total freak.

"Have you seen Ben?" Kurt asks, sounding bored.

"He's, uh….in the first bedroom on the right," Blaine says, pointing down the hallway to their left.

"Oh, so you _can_ speak in complete sentences," Kurt says as he walks in the direction Blaine pointed.

"Smooth," Yvonne says from behind him.

"Let's just get to work," Blaine says. He's annoyed with himself for not being able to charm Kurt. Although, right now he'd just settle for not sticking his foot in his mouth every time he opens it to speak. Or at least not staring awkwardly like he's never seen a good-looking man before.

* * *

Kurt is even more gorgeous than Blaine remembered and he has a hard time focusing on his work – dropping a vase and watching it shatter on the marble tile and stubbing his toe more than once on a stray prop – so Yvonne has him go outside to set up the location for their group shots. The distraction helps Blaine compose himself. A little.

And then, dressed in a thick shearling-lined coat and slim-fitted jeans, Kurt emerges from the house with the other four models, chatting amiably with the same muscular model – David, Blaine remembers – who had been friendly with Blaine at the last shoot.

"Anderson," David says, slapping him on the back. "I didn't know you were here. I saw Yvonne inside and figured you would be back to cupcake logos. You know Kurt, right?"

Blaine nods, shocked that David remembers their conversation. He'd barely remembered David's name. Maybe he'd complained about his job more than he realized.

"I don't think we've been properly introduced, though," Blaine says, holding out a hand to Kurt. "I'm Blaine."

"Kurt." He takes Blaine's hand and pumps it once, dropping it as quickly as he can.

"You'll have to forgive Kurt," David says. "He's kind of a bitch, but I put up with him because he's got a hot roommate."

"She'd kick you in the balls if she heard you say that," Kurt says dryly.

"It would be almost be worth it," David says. "Have you seen her legs?"

"Gay, remember?" Kurt says, pointing at himself. "As is she."

"She's still hot."

Blaine laughs but stops short when Kurt glares at him. He returns his attention to David.

"Actually," David says, leaning in conspiratorially. "Kurt only talks to me because I'm straight."

Blaine lifts an eyebrow and looks to Kurt.

"Jesus, David!" he says, swatting at his arm.

"Sorry," David says, but not sounding it at all. "Kurt here hates getting hit on, but I'm safe because I like girls."

Kurt is glaring at David, but Blaine refuses to give up.

"I can understand that," he says, giving Kurt his best friendly smile. When Kurt makes eye contact, though, he drops his head a little. He feels a blush creeping up his neck. "I bet you get hit on all the time. Probably gets old." He looks back up at Kurt and tries to smile.

"Wow…really?" Kurt says, tilting his head to the side.

Blaine doesn't understand what he's said. He was agreeing with Kurt, complimenting him even. He looks at him with his mouth open.

"Typical," Kurt says and saunters off toward Ben and Yvonne.

"What did I say?" Blaine asks, gaping after Kurt.

"Dude, don't take it personally," David says. "Kurt's just like that sometimes. You'll get used to it."

Blaine nods at David, who smiles before following Kurt to join the rest of the crew. Blaine feels even more determined to break through Kurt's icy exterior now. And maybe, he silently admits to himself, he's a little annoyed that Kurt seems to disapprove of Blaine in particular. He kind of wants to prove Kurt wrong.

* * *

Blaine spends the rest of the day being extra attentive to Kurt: getting him water when he complains that he's dehydrated from wearing a winter coat in the heat; suggesting a break when he sees Kurt leaning heavily on a tree between shots; offering him sunscreen when he has to stand in the sun too long; laughing at his jokes when no one else does — anything he can think of to get in Kurt's good graces.

"I'm not interested," Kurt says as he takes the offered towel from Blaine's hands on the last shot of the day.

"I'm sorry?" Blaine asks.

"Whatever you're doing. All of … this," Kurt says gesturing with the towel toward the bottle of water in Blaine's left hand. "It won't work."

"Just doing my job," Blaine says, smiling.

"Your job is _not_ to wait on me," Kurt says. "And I'm not interested."

"Oh," Blaine says, eyes wide finally understanding what Kurt is getting at. "You think I'm hitting on you?"

"I don't _think_," Kurt says. "I know. And although it's sweet, I'm just not interested. I don't date industry people. Sorry."

"Kurt," Blaine says.

"I'm sorry," Kurt says. "The answer is no."

He gives Blaine a stern look and is gone. Blaine doesn't even know what just happened. He was just trying to be nice. He hadn't been trying to flirt with Kurt or anything. He just wants to be his friend. Why is he failing so miserably at something so simple?

* * *

Blaine spends a lot of time thinking about that encounter with Kurt over the next few days to the point where it consumes most of his waking thoughts. Every time his mind wanders, he daydreams about Kurt. He thinks of the lift of Kurt's jaw whenever he sees Blaine, the disdain in his eyes. It should be really annoying. He should hate Kurt for being so damned difficult. But he just finds himself curious – about Kurt, about his past, his present … his life.

If Blaine had been completely honest with himself, he might have realized how attracted he was to Kurt, but instead he drives himself to the point of distraction. It's so bad by Friday that Yvonne calls him out on it.

"I swear to god, Blaine Anderson, if you don't go out this weekend and have some fun, I'm going to fire your ass."

"Huh?" Blaine says, prying his eyes from his screen where he'd been working on a logo for the last few hours.

"You've been off your game since that photo shoot. And I'm sorry that Kurt wasn't interested, but you need to get a grip," she says.

"I'm fine," Blaine insists.

"You're using Papyrus for crying out loud," Yvonne says, gesturing toward his screen. "You're NOT fine."

He turns back to his desk and stares at the mess he's created on his desktop. It's hideous. And he realizes he was just daydreaming. He hadn't even consciously chosen that font; he was just biding his time to get home and try to come up with ways to get Kurt to speak to him.

"I think I need a drink," Blaine says.

"Or get laid," Yvonne says under her breath.

"I heard that."

"Good," she says, reaching over him to close the file he has open. "Maybe you'll take my advice. Find a gay bar, have a few drinks, pick up a cute guy. You'll thank me."

She pulls his chair out and he lets her spin him in it until he's facing her.

"You know in some work places, that would be considered sexual harassment," Blaine says.

"Go home," she says. "I'll see you Monday."

Blaine heads home as Yvonne suggested, but he has no plans to go out and pick up guys. He just wants to go home and order Chinese takeout. He's too old for the bar scene these days. And besides, he still has photos to edit. Photos of Kurt.

The problem with that particular tactic is Blaine is forced to stare at Kurt's face – and body – for hours on end. Alone. In his apartment. On a Friday night.

It's not his fault that his mind wanders down a particularly pornographic path. It's probably less due to the way Kurt's ass looks in the pants he's wearing in each shot and more to do with the fact that Blaine has gotten so familiar with his right hand lately that he's feeling like he should take it to dinner. He's just horny. Plain and simple.

Maybe Yvonne was right. Maybe he should go out, find some hot guy and get it out of his system.

Blaine grabs his keys and heads to a new club he'd heard about from one of the younger guys working in production. It's overpriced and overcrowded, but there's a bar, and the guys aren't bad.

He heads straight to the bar in the back and orders a Jack and Coke. Blaine takes a long, slow pull from his glass and turns to watch the mass of bodies on the dance floor. The crowd is just getting worked up and he can see a sheen of sweat on most of the guys already. It's an average Friday night.

His eyes trail across a few of the guys dancing with each other and he suddenly feels much too old. These guys all look to be barely old enough to have a fake ID and Blaine seriously considers just finishing his drink and going home.

And then he sees him.

Dancing by himself, although there are clearly three guys trying to get him to notice them. His eyes are closed and his head thrown back as he bounces along to the beat, lost in the rhythm of the music. He looks like sex personified.

Blaine puts his drink to his lips, rolls the liquid around in his mouth, and swallows hard. The whiskey burns its way down his throat as he watches Kurt lose himself in the sway of bodies around him.

He makes up his mind before he can chicken out. He downs the rest of his drink and slams the glass dramatically on the bar. Well, it _feels_ dramatic anyway. As Blaine crosses the dance floor, he weaves his way through a dozen or so men who all seem to want to grab his ass, pull him in for a dance. But he doesn't stop. Not until he reaches his mark.

Blaine taps Kurt on the shoulder, and he turns around and opens his eyes.

"Hey," Blaine says, bracing for Kurt's usual venom.

"Oh my god, Blaine!" Kurt yells over the music. "Dance with me!"

He grabs Blaine's hand and twirls him on the spot. Blaine can't help but laugh and smile because Kurt is suddenly being so open and friendly. He looks young and free and damn near effervescent dancing like that. There's none of the previous disdain directed at Blaine and it's wonderful. And he's smiling. At Blaine.

Kurt puts his hands on Blaine's hips and guides his movements until he relaxes a little. At some point Blaine manages to calm his nerves enough to sync his dancing with the pulse of the bass line. He lets himself get lost in the music and the simple feeling of Kurt pressed against him. And _god_ does that feel good.

When the song changes up to one with a slightly slower beat, Kurt's arms find their way around Blaine's neck, and he pulls him in tight to his torso. They're touching from chest to hip and their feet are tangled together as they sway together. Blaine grabs onto Kurt's waist in order to keep himself from falling over, the sensation making his skin feel warm and tingly at every point of contact. And even trapped in the midst of a sweaty, drunk mass of guys on the dance floor, Kurt smells amazing.

By the third song, it becomes apparent that Kurt is more than a little drunk.

"I really hate you, you know," Kurt says into Blaine's ear, loud enough so he can be heard above the music, and close enough that it sends shivers down Blaine's spine, even though Kurt's words are slightly slurred.

"No you don't," Blaine says, leaning in just as intimately.

Kurt pulls back and his eyes are hooded and dark for a moment before he squares his shoulders and shakes his head slowly. It seems to clear the fog in his head.

"I need a drink," he declares and pulls Blaine by the hand toward the bar.

He orders them both shots of tequila and smirks at Blaine as he licks his hand to sprinkle it with salt.

"Bottoms up," he says before licking the salt from his skin and chasing it with the shot. He scrunches up his face adorably as the alcohol burns its way down his throat. When he sucks on a lime wedge, he looks over at Blaine, who is just setting his empty shot glass on the bar. "You need another drink," he says and waves the bartender over.

They do another shot, and Blaine can't be sure if he imagines the way Kurt's tongue curls around his finger chasing a bit of lime juice. He orders another round hoping Kurt will do it again.

After the third shot, Blaine's head starts to feel more than a little fuzzy. Kurt shudders as he swallows it down and Blaine laughs. Kurt sticks his tongue out playfully.

By the time they're sitting together in a tiny booth near the back of the club, sharing a bench and sipping mixed drinks, Blaine has lost track of how many shots he and Kurt shared at the bar. Blaine doesn't quite know what's in his umbrella-adorned glass, but it tastes fruity and not really strong at all. Which probably means it's extra dangerous.

He turns his head to smile at Kurt. This is the best night.

"Your hair is really awesome," he says.

"Oh I bet it's a mess," Kurt replies, running his hand over the front of it where it swoops away from his forehead. It looks flawless in spite of all the dancing. Blaine resists the urge to reach up to run his hands through it.

"_My_ hair is a mess," Blaine says, rolling his eyes up as if he could see it for himself. "Too curly."

"I like the curls," Kurt says simply as he glances up. "Reminds me of a Cocker Spaniel we had when I was a kid."

"That's a funny word, cocker," Blaine says, snorting out a laugh.

"You're drunk," Kurt replies.

"So are you."

"Maybe," Kurt says. He holds two fingers up and pinches them close together and closes one eye. "A little. I could go for some coffee right now. To sober me up."

"I love coffee," Blaine says, chewing on his straw. "But I'm like the only person I know who orders _regular_ coffee at Starbucks. Like, I bet you're a soy latte kind of guy." He pulls the straw out of his mouth and points it at Kurt.

Kurt lifts his chin and stares down his nose at Blaine. "Nonfat mocha, thank you very much."

"Still fancier than my order," Blaine says with a shrug, dropping the straw in his glass.

Kurt smiles. It's warm and open and kind of makes Blaine's stomach twist in a wonderful way, or maybe that's the alcohol. Blaine rests his chin in his hand and leans forward, smiling at Kurt.

"Have coffee with me sometime." The words are out of his mouth before he can think.

Kurt reels back, looking suddenly all-too sober for as much as they've had to drink.

"What am I doing?" he says, trying to shove Blaine out of the booth and climb over him all at once. "I've got to go."

Kurt stumbles a little and Blaine catches his forearm.

"Kurt...just wait. Kurt, what's wrong?"

He jerks his arm out of Blaine's grip and loses his balance for a second before catching himself on the table. He stands up and tugs down on the front of his shirt, correcting his posture and standing tall again.

"I just need to go. I can't do this."

"Can't do what?" Blaine asks. "We're just talking." He laughs nervously. Did he say something wrong?

"I'm sorry. I can't," Kurt says, looking completely horrified. "I have to go."

"Kurt…"

But he's gone and Blaine is left staring after him, trying to ignore the throbbing in his head from too much alcohol. Or maybe it was from the emotional whiplash.

* * *

Blaine stumbles through his doorway – only dropping his keys once – just before 2 a.m. He and Kurt had danced and talked for at least two hours before he'd run off. Blaine's head is still buzzing from the music and the alcohol, and he swears he can still smell Kurt on his clothes.

He flops down on his sofa and nearly knocks his laptop to the floor with the impact. He catches it just as it's sliding off one of the cushions and flips it open. The photos of Kurt he'd been editing earlier are still open.

"God, you're sexy," Blaine says out loud. He runs his hand loosely down the screen as if he could somehow touch Kurt's perfect skin through the cold plastic. It's not even remotely the same, but Blaine remembers the feeling of Kurt pressed against him on the dance floor and the way his eyes lit up when he first saw Blaine. It was more than he could have hoped for when he'd first seen him from across the club. But Kurt had been full of surprises.

"What are you hiding underneath all that fire and ice, Kurt Hummel?"

He scrolls through a few more photos until he finds the one he's looking for: an outtake where Kurt had laughed at David tripping over a prop. Kurt's eyes are nearly closed and his mouth is open wide enough to reveal a row of small teeth framed by his lush mouth and the cutest dimples.

And it's so fucking sexy, seeing Kurt completely uninhibited just like he had been on the dance floor earlier, Blaine thinks he might actually cry out of frustration. Instead, he unzips his jeans. He considers trying to do this without thinking of Kurt, but he's still a little drunk and he's too worked up to call up a different fantasy.

As he drags a hand up his torso, Blaine wonders what Kurt's hands would feel like under his shirt. Would it be rushed and heated or would he take his time worshipping over Blaine's body? Blaine's hand dips lower, underneath the waistband of his boxer briefs. Just a tease, but it sends a shot of arousal through his body like fire.

His mind wanders to the feeling of Kurt's breath, hot on his neck, when they had danced. The way his eyes had looked dark and seductive when they moved together. Surely Blaine hadn't mistaken that look. Arousal, attraction, desire. He's certain it was all there, even if Kurt didn't want to admit it.

Blaine opens another photo from earlier in the day. Kurt is lounging on a retro-looking sofa. Blaine doesn't remember this shot. It must have been one of the ones they did after Yvonne sent him outside. It's probably a good thing that she did because Kurt looks positively sinful: his arm draped over the back of the sofa with his legs sprawled loosely in front of him, looking longer and leaner than before. God, Blaine wants those legs wrapped around him.

Kurt's head is turned to the side, face tilted away from the camera. The way he's seated on the sofa leaves just enough room for Blaine to sit down beside him and nibble his way up the long column of Kurt's neck while his hand grazes Kurt's inner thigh.

Blaine arches up into his own hand at the thought, and he almost upends his laptop. He grabs it with his left hand before it can slide off his legs. Blaine readjusts and zooms in on Kurt's profile, not wanting to let go of the fantasy quite yet. He imagines the little whimpers Kurt would try to hold back as Blaine teased his earlobe with the tip of his tongue. The way the tendons in his neck would shift and pull as Blaine dragged his teeth over the sensitive flesh.

Blaine trails his hand down his own neck and tries to imagine what he would say, what he would do if Kurt would let him touch him like this.

"Kurt," he moans, taking his already hard cock in his hand. "Feels so good. God, I want you to touch me so bad."

He strokes down the length of his cock, keeping his eyes trained on the images of Kurt on his computer screen.

"You're so fucking gorgeous, Kurt. I want to map out your fucking chest with my tongue. Make you scream my name."

He's coming undone too quickly but he just doesn't care. He's picturing Kurt writhing beneath him as he takes him apart with each flick of his tongue.

"God, your tiny fucking waist," he says. "I could wrap my legs around you twice. Let you fuck me."

He slows his movements a bit, wanting to draw this out, and his eyes fall on Kurt's perfectly styled hair.

"You're just begging for it, aren't you Kurt? To have that hair pulled? Messed up? To be owned."

Blaine moans, and the thought of giving Kurt back some of his ferocity turns to toe-curling pleasure as his orgasm starts to build. He bucks up into his fist and feels himself begin to tip over the edge. His back arches and he surges forward as he comes, not noticing where it's landing.

When he falls back against the sofa, he opens his eyes and sees his laptop screen streaked with his come. He reaches up to wipe it off, knows he should be concerned about cleaning it up, but he stops short. Because right now, he just wants to enjoy the image of Kurt covered in pearly white streaks of come. His come.

And god, if that isn't the hottest fucking thing he's ever seen.


	4. Chapter 4

While editing photos of Kurt on Monday, Blaine forces himself to think of Kurt in a strictly professional way – Kurt's a model and Blaine's a graphic designer, period. He can handle looking at Kurt's handsome face and perfect body without fantasizing like a crude frat boy. And he can zoom in on his blue-but-maybe-also-a-little-green eyes and not get lost in the depths of them. A grown-ass man with a job to do can digitally remove creases from the fabric wrapped around Kurt's lean torso and long legs without imagining about what they would look like naked. And 29-year-old Blaine Anderson can certainly keep from getting turned on while doing it.

He manages to stop himself from doing any of that, more or less. Depends on how unprofessional it is to keep using his work as inspiration for his masturbatory fantasies.

Because in the light of day and completely sober, Blaine feels guilty about fantasizing so blatantly about Kurt; Blaine tries to convince himself that his lack of romantic prospects lately had simply gotten the better of him and his inner pervert had latched on to the first hot guy he had seen. Kurt is simply an innocent bystander in Blaine's decidedly lacking sex life. That's all.

But forcing his brain to think only the purest of thoughts about Kurt while he's safely ensconced in his work in the starkly lit confines of his office doesn't make it feel any less awkward to be facing him in person the following week at yet another photo shoot.

And it also doesn't help that just to prove that he can, Blaine resolves to double his efforts at befriending Kurt. _Just_ befriending. That means he has to face him and talk to him and probably get shot down yet again.

But he doesn't care. He wants to get to know Kurt. Beyond the awkward fantasies and the stilted conversations and Kurt's cold shoulder and all the careful posturing he's doing to keep Blaine at arm's length, Blaine still wants to know more. It's a little terrifying the way he's been obsessing over it, making up stories in his head about who Kurt is and where he comes from. How did he get into modeling? What does his family think? Does he have a best friend, someone he can truly confide in?

Blaine wants to know all this and more, so he buys Kurt a large nonfat mocha as a peace offering, adding a cappuccino for Yvonne to his order when he thinks about her tendency to read way too much into his friendly gestures. As is the norm in Blaine's imperfect life, neither gesture really works out the way he planned.

"You brought him coffee?" Yvonne says with a smirk as she takes her cup from Blaine. "You must have really lost your mind this time, Anderson."

"I'm just doing something nice for a friend," Blaine says. "Not everyone has ulterior motives, Yvonne."

"True, but everyone needs to get some. And he's hot." She winks at Blaine, which earns her another eye roll. There's no point in trying to convince her. She's made up her mind that Blaine is just trying to get in Kurt's pants. And while that wouldn't be something Blaine would necessarily turn down, it's not really what he's after.

He just wants to see Kurt smile again.

When they arrive on set, Blaine finds Kurt in hair and makeup, his near alabaster skin and thick, soft brown hair almost daring the woman working on him to improve its perfection. Blaine still can't believe how stunning Kurt is. It practically takes his breath away.

The makeup artist points a finger up and to the left, and Kurt tilts his face to follow her gesture. The movement causes the sunlight streaming in the open window to fall directly on Kurt's face, and it paints him with a breathtaking ethereal glow. The makeup artist dusts his nose and forehead with a soft powder, but she doesn't do much else, instead opting for tilting his head left and then right and studying his flawless complexion.

"Damn, boy, I'd kill for your skin," she says.

Kurt smiles at her. "Or I could give you the number for my aesthetician," he says, scrunching up his face. "Slightly less criminal."

She swats at his arm playfully before leaning over Kurt again to inspect her work.

"Tina," someone calls from the other corner of the room. "Do we have any more of that spray foundation? I can't find it."

"I'll be right back," she says.

Kurt nods and pulls out his phone, immediately scowling at whatever is on the screen.

Blaine, sensing he may not get a better opportunity to talk to Kurt alone, walks confidently toward him, smiling as if nothing had gone amiss the other night.

When Kurt sees Blaine approaching, he almost breaks into a smile before schooling his face into his usual cool, aloof expression. Blaine takes the brief hint of forgetfulness as a good sign. Kurt looks questioningly at the two cups of coffee in Blaine's hands.

"I figured if you won't go to the coffee, I'll bring the coffee to you," Blaine says, presenting the paper cup with a flourish and a small bow. "And I wanted to apologize."

Kurt lifts an eyebrow, but he takes the cup from Blaine's hand. He sniffs it before bringing it to his lips and taking a tentative sip.

"You know my coffee order," he says.

"Well, I'd like say I have great intuition, but it's more like a good memory. You told me the other night."

Kurt scowls a little and Blaine shifts on his feet and clears his throat nervously.

"Look, Kurt, I don't know what I did to upset you, but I want you to know that my intentions are completely pure. I just want us to be friends. I promise."

"_Just_ friends?" Kurt asks. "Not friends with benefits or fuck buddies … but just friends?"

"Absolutely," Blaine replies. "Scout's honor." He even mimes the gesture for good measure.

"God you're a fucking dork," Kurt says, rolling his eyes. He looks like he's about to say something else, but he pulls up to his full posture when he sees Tina approaching, and asks, "we done here, Tina?"

She nods at him and smiles at Blaine.

Kurt stands up and unbelts his robe. As he turns, Blaine feels his heart thudding loudly in his chest because Kurt is almost completely naked except for the tiniest pair of black briefs Blaine has ever seen. He swallows hard and quickly tries to avert his eyes.

"Um, I should … I should go and find Yvonne," he stammers.

Blaine trips over the chair Kurt had been sitting in and it crashes to the floor, taking Blaine and his coffee with it. As he untangles his limbs from under him, he rights the chair and smooths down the front of his shirt, thankful it isn't stained. Even though his coffee is now a lost cause, he picks up the paper cup and puts the lid back on.

"I'll uh… I'll get someone to clean that up," he says, gesturing toward the spill.

"I've got it," Tina trills, bending over in front of him and swiping the floor with a piece of cloth she pulls from where it had been hanging out of her back pocket.

"Thanks," he mutters.

Blaine composes himself as quickly as possible and tries to get away from Kurt before he makes an even bigger ass of himself. He hears muffled laughter as he retreats to the sparsely decorated set they're using for the day.

"Holy hell, Blaine, what happened to you?" Yvonne asks when a flushed, sweaty Blaine appears at her side. He's still holding his empty coffee cup and wondering where all the damned trash cans are in this place.

"Nothing," he says, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "Let's just get to work."

Yvonne's gaze falls over Blaine's shoulder and her jaw drops.

"Oh I see what's got you so worked up," she says softly. "Jesus, that kid is hot. It's not fair."

Blaine turns around to see Kurt, having now removed his robe entirely, leaning on the door frame that leads to hair and makeup. He's still sipping from the coffee Blaine had brought him and he's back to his usual icy glare.

Blaine's eyes drag slowly up Kurt's lean body. He doesn't mean to, not really, but there's just so much to look at. He's sure he can see Yvonne's slack-jawed expression in his peripheral vision, but he's not ready to look away from Kurt just yet.

His muscles are obviously toned, but not too defined to be considered bulky. He has a dancer's build, maybe from yoga or Pilates, Blaine thinks. His skin is fair all over, and the way he's glowing in the morning light, Blaine thinks he probably waxed for the shoot. But when Blaine's eyes land on Kurt's arms, he finds tightly formed biceps that thus far have been hidden from view. They flex as Kurt lifts the coffee cup to his lips and swallows.

"Wow," he says, unable to stop the word from escaping his lips.

"Get an eyeful?" Kurt asks.

Blaine blinks heavily as his brains slowly catches up to Kurt's words. The comment unfortunately brings his mind back to that night he'd jerked off to pictures of Kurt, his come streaking the model's chiseled features, and he feels his face flush, even as he remembers that Kurt can't read his thoughts.

"Um... what?"

"Like what you see?" Kurt says, enunciating every word like Blaine might not understand him otherwise.

"Um... yes?"

Kurt snorts. "_Friends_… right."

The disgust on his face shoots through Blaine like an arrow; he wants to kick himself, or at least try to apologize for staring. But Kurt turns abruptly and walks away, leaving Blaine to gape after him.

"Whoa," Yvonne says, her mouth just as wide in disbelief as Blaine's.

"Um, Yvonne?" Blaine says once Kurt is out of sight.

"Yeah?"

"Why didn't you tell me we were shooting underwear today?"

She gives him a tense smile. "Surprise?" she says, looking only slightly remorseful.

* * *

The day is tense, to say the least, but Blaine manages to compose himself and not kill Yvonne. He keeps trying to make eye contact with Kurt, mostly because if he looks anywhere else he might spontaneously combust. He wants to talk to him, try to apologize, but Kurt makes it abundantly clear that he doesn't want to interact with Blaine in any capacity.

When Blaine offers him a bottle of water between setups, Kurt makes a point of asking Ben to bring him a towel. When Blaine suggests another pose, Kurt asks Zach if it looks okay.

It's maddening and it only spurs Blaine to try harder, his smile growing steadily wider every time he looks at Kurt. Yvonne draws him out of a daze by elbowing him in the ribs so many times, he's pretty sure there will be bruises tomorrow. But it doesn't matter because he's a man on a mission.

None of it works, though. Kurt keeps his distance and Blaine becomes more and more crazed for his attention. Everyone on set becomes gradually more awkward and exhausted from dealing with the tension between the two, and the day drags on.

At one point, when Kurt is getting changed in the back room that's doubling as a dressing room, Blaine hears muffled shouting coming from behind the closed door. It sounds like Ben and Kurt, but he can't be sure.

When Kurt reemerges minutes later, he's fuming, red-faced and breathing heavy. Ben follows moments later, a triumphant grin on his face. Kurt's in his final look for the day – a slim-fitted sport coat over a simple t-shirt and dark jeans. He looks like he's going on a date, and for some reason Blaine finds that hotter than seeing him in his underwear.

Ben tugs at the back of the jacket and Kurt wheels around.

"It's fine," he says, eyes flashing in anger.

Ben gives him a pointed look with raised eyebrows and Kurt bites his lip.

"Fine," he says.

Blaine thinks he hears a quiet "thank you" from Ben, but then Kurt is walking in his direction. And god he's sexy when he's angry.

"Have Tina fix your makeup first," Ben calls after him. "You're smudged."

Kurt wheels around, looking like he wants to yell at Ben again, but he just takes in a deep breath and heads for hair and makeup.

Ben returns to help set up the final shot. Blaine looks at him questioningly, but Ben just shrugs and says, "Let's get to work. We're almost done and I'd like to have dinner before 9 p.m. at least one night this week."

Blaine lets it go and they get through the final shot without incident, even though Kurt still looks out of sorts.

By the end of it all, Blaine is flat-out exhausted and he just wants to go home. He's packing up his laptop and wondering if he should feel guilty for ordering pizza for dinner two nights in a row, when he hears a timid voice behind him.

"Hey."

It's Kurt.

"Hey," he says, noting that Kurt's still in wardrobe from the shoot. "Uh…Ben will be right back."

"No… I mean. Well…" Kurt clasps his hands together and nervously pulls at his own fingers. "I wasn't looking for Ben. I wanted to talk to you. To apologize."

Blaine blinks at him.

"For earlier," Kurt clarifies. "I was kind of a jerk."

"Kind of?"

"Okay, I was a total asshole," Kurt says, dropping his head a little and laughing. "You have no idea what this is like for me."

"Modeling?"

Kurt nods. "And being completely objectified all the time. Sometimes I feel like I'm just a body, or even a face first and a person second. No one cares what I have to say as long as I show up on time and look good."

"Then why do you do it?"

"Money," Kurt says quickly. "And fashion," he adds after a beat.

Blaine is intrigued by this. "Fashion?"

"Yeah…I used to design my own clothes, but when I started taking my portfolio around to design houses, they kept asking me if I modeled. When they found out how young I am, most passed over my work for more experienced designers anyway. So one day when this really cute assistant asked if I modeled, I said yes. I was sort of joking…flirting a little. But they hired me for their spring show."

"Just like that?"

"Yep. So I gave up fashion design and became a model," he says.

"You shouldn't give up on your dreams, Kurt," Blaine says, and he means it. But when Kurt looks uncomfortable at the suggestion, Blaine changes the subject. "And you don't look _that_ young."

"I'm 19." He shrugs. "Anyway, modeling pays the bills better than working at Starbucks. And way better than being an unemployed fashion designer. Not to mention, I make a lot of connections."

"So why the ice queen routine, then?" He winces as soon as the words are out of his mouth. "Sorry."

"No, it's okay," Kurt says. He pauses and looks down at his hands and for a moment, Blaine wonders if he's going to answer the question at all. Kurt takes a deep breath and sighs. He doesn't make eye contact with Blaine as he speaks. "I just … don't like to date industry people." It comes out rushed and mumbled, but Blaine just barely makes out his words.

He senses that Kurt's not giving him the whole story, but Blaine doesn't push. "Well, I just want to be your friend."

"So you said."

"I meant it," Blaine says. "I figured you could use one."

"And it has nothing to do with the way you were ogling me earlier?" Kurt looks skeptical and something else. Hopeful maybe?

"Okay… fair point," Blaine says. "You got me there. Kurt, you're gorgeous. You know that, but I'd like to get to know you. The _real_ you. Not the bitchy persona you've crafted to keep people at arm's length. And it has nothing to do with your body. I promise." It might have a little something to do with your eyes, though, he thinks.

Kurt's jaw drops a little. Blaine might have hit on something there, a window, opened just a crack, a tiny fissure in his façade. Perhaps Kurt will let him in after all.

"Besides, I think I'm a little old for you," Blaine says, ducking his head and glancing up at Kurt, hoping he can lighten the mood a little.

"Maybe a little," Kurt teases. "But what are you, like 25?"

"Almost 30," Blaine replies.

"So you're 29."

"Which is almost 30."

"Well we'd better start looking for a nursing home, then."

Blaine laughs. He likes Kurt like this. It's reminiscent of the Kurt from the club, but without the murky haze of alcohol to dull his own senses. Kurt is funny and smart, with just an edge of sarcasm. And yet there's something soft about him too, something kind and sweet. Maybe it's his youth, even though he certainly acts older than 19.

Blaine's mouth falls open.

"Wait… you're only 19. But at the club…"

"Fake ID," Kurt says rolling his eyes. "Or didn't they have those in the dark ages?"

"Funny," Blaine says.

They're silent for a moment. And it's not uncomfortable. Blaine holds Kurt's gaze for a few seconds and just smiles, savoring the smile he gets in return. For the first time since they met, it seems, Kurt isn't pushing him away. And it feels good. Promising. And for reasons Blaine can't quite explain, life-changing.

"So… friends?" Blaine holds out a hand for Kurt to shake.

"Friends," Kurt says, smiling as he takes Blaine's outstretched hand.

* * *

Blaine wakes up sweaty and panting that night in a way that hasn't happened to him in years. A vision flashes in his mind of what he'd been dreaming: strong, graceful, long legs wrapped around his torso and pale, milky skin set off by the tiniest black briefs. A soft, lilting voice speaking Blaine's name like a prayer as they both came. A sweep of brown hair falling over a flushed face while striking eyes pleaded for more.

A man, a stunning, perfect man with eyes like galaxies and a personality that ignited Blaine's imagination like wildfire.

Kurt.

He'd been dreaming about Kurt.

His head drops heavily on the pillow beneath him as he sighs.

'This is insane," he says into the darkness. "You're supposed to be his friend. Not fantasizing about him in your sleep."

Of course there's a part of him that knows he's only saying that to try to convince himself. Kurt is easily one of the most beautiful men Blaine has ever seen, and certainly the most beautiful man he's ever been friends with.

He shifts uncomfortably and kicks the sheets free from where they're tangled between his legs, only now noticing the sticky mess between his overheated skin and his boxer briefs. Blaine groans and drags a hand over his face before forcing himself out of the comfort of his bed and into the harsh light of his tiny bathroom.

He discards his underwear in the hamper and turns on the shower as hot as it will go without burning him. When he steps under the spray, he lets the water pound into his back and relax the tension in his muscles. He spreads his palms on the cool tile in front of him and watches the water swirl down the drain beneath his feet.

There has to be another way to deal with his attraction to Kurt. This is getting ridiculous: having wet dreams like a fucking kid; acting like a raving lunatic whenever he sees Kurt; hiding erections from his coworkers as he edits photos. It needs to stop.

When Kurt had offered to exchange phone numbers, Blaine had simply handed him his phone and nodded, even though internally he'd wanted to dance around the room from the joy trying to burst out of his chest.

He hadn't expected Kurt wanting to meet for coffee.

"I owe you, right?" he'd said. "For this morning." And then he'd smiled.

As Kurt had walked to the back room to change out of his clothes, the words "call me" still ringing in Blaine's ears, he had clutched his phone to his chest like a lifeline. Kurt wanted him to call, though part of him was secretly hoping Kurt would make the first move. Blaine needed to know that Kurt was just as invested in trying to be friends.

But it had been two days since the shoot and there hadn't been a phone call or text or anything. His phone had mocked him, cold and dark for the last 36 hours except for the stray text from his brother or an email from work. Nothing at all from Kurt.

Blaine doesn't realize how long he's been in the shower until the water starts to run cold. He shuts it off and grabs a clean towel.

The truth is, he's not sure he wants to call Kurt because he's afraid. Afraid of himself. Of what he might do. Of what Kurt might say. Oddly enough, he's not really afraid of being rejected. If Blaine were being completely honest, he's more worried that this could be _something_. Something he's not entirely sure he's ready for. Maybe something Kurt isn't ready for. And that scares the shit out of him.

* * *

It's three more days before Blaine gets up enough courage to contact Kurt. It's a Wednesday and he's editing photos from the last shoot. He's actually getting quite a bit done because he's trying to distract himself from the phone number burning a hole in his contacts list. Funny how it's kind of difficult to do that when he's staring at Kurt half naked in 27 inches of high-resolution glory.

He pulls out his phone and rolls it around in his hand. One text won't hurt. Something work-related. He can do this. They're friends now. Kurt offered his number up first. Said they should get coffee. It's fine.

Blaine:  
You should see these proofs from the shoot the other day. You look ...  
_fucking amazing! hot!_ (he deletes it)  
l_ike a Greek statue._ (deletes that too)  
...great. :)

He hits send before he has a chance to second-guess himself for a third time. And, of course, he immediately regrets it. What a dumb way to start a conversation. Couldn't he have just said something safer, like "Nice weather we're having" or "read any good books lately?"

It takes longer than it should for him to get an answer back. He begins to wonder if Kurt is actually going to respond at all and he thinks that maybe he should have just said hi rather than mentioning Kurt's appearance. It's not like he doesn't know better. Kurt all but told him he didn't like getting hit on. And there he goes sending off texts that sound like bad pick-up lines. Not to mention, he's nearly 10 years older than Kurt. Now he's just that creepy older guy who wants to be "friends."

Blaine is so wrapped up in mentally flogging himself that when his phone finally buzzes with a new text message, he practically jumps out of his seat.

Kurt:  
Slow day at work? You've got to have better things to do than stare at photos of me all day.

Blaine laughs because that's actually his favorite part of the day. Not that he'd tell Kurt that.

Blaine:  
Well there weren't any urgent cupcake logos that needed designing, so I thought I'd go poke the polar bear.

Kurt:  
Not sure if that's a joke on my complexion or my icy demeanor, but I'll give you points for creativity.

Blaine:  
So we're keeping score now?

Kurt:  
Yes, and I'm winning.

Blaine:  
Guess I need to up my game then.

Kurt:  
This is me rolling my eyes at you. Don't you have work to do?

Blaine:  
Just editing photos of this bitchy model. ;)

Kurt:  
Maybe he's not bitchy, maybe it's the dorky art director that's the problem.

Blaine:  
You misspelled charming.

Kurt:  
You misspelled delusional.

Blaine:  
Perhaps. I should probably get back to work actually. See you on Friday at the shoot?

Kurt:  
That's what they're paying me for.

Blaine:  
Bitchy.

Kurt:  
You misspelled charming.

Blaine smiles at his phone. He can't believe he's actually becoming friends with Kurt.

"What are you grinning about?" Yvonne asks as she makes her way to her desk.

"Nothing, just a funny text from a friend."

She shakes her head and smiles at him.

"So next shoot," Yvonne says, shuffling through the mail in her inbox. "Lorelei wants you to run it."

"By myself?" Blaine asks, setting his phone down on the desk.

Yvonne looks up and smiles at him.

"Yep."

Blaine's eyebrows squeeze together in confusion.

"Why?"

"Well, these shoots don't need _two_ art directors, Blaine."

"She's promoting me?" Blaine asks with wide eyes.

"Congratulations, cupcake." Yvonne's smile widens at Blaine's obvious excitement.

"Oh my god," he says, beaming. "I'm too excited to even get mad at you for calling me cupcake."


	5. Chapter 5

Friday morning is one of those glorious late-summer days that's sunny and warm, but not stiflingly hot, and the haze of the oppressive heat offers a reprieve as the season eases toward fall. Blaine is beyond grateful for it because he knows they're shooting outside all day and there's no way he could stand the kind of stifling humidity they've been subjected to for the last two weeks. Fall is coming, and Blaine just wants to enjoy the last bit of summer while he can.

They're shooting at an old fish camp that overlooks a glassy lake surrounded by picturesque pine trees. It's very LL Bean, and the contrast against the chic lines of Jan West's urban designs will be striking. Something tells Blaine that Kurt is going to love it.

Blaine throws on a t-shirt and a simple pair of shorts. It's not something he'd wear to work on a normal day, but knowing he'll be outside and running around, well, it just seems like he should make the exception.

Kurt shows up a little before 9, just as Blaine and Zach are setting up for the first shot. He walks right up to Blaine in long, purposeful strides, his black Wayfarers accentuating his sharp cheekbones and setting off the fairness of his complexion perfectly.

"Isn't this great?" Blaine asks, feeling lighter and happier now that he sees Kurt.

"Oh my god," Kurt says. "It's like a mosquito banquet out here, and I'm the main course."

"We've got bug spray," Blaine says, laughing. "And you'll be wearing long sleeves."

"Yes, that makes everything better. The mosquitos won't get me but I'll sweat to death," he snarks. "Thank _heaven_ for bug spray and long sleeves."

"And thoughtful art directors," Zach says, knowing full-well Blaine personally brought the bug spray.

"He's just sucking up so I'll behave and we can get out of this heat as quickly as possible," Kurt replies, winking at Blaine.

"So I guess you two made up," Zach says with a smirk.

"Something like that," Blaine replies, not looking up from the light meter he's holding.

Zach raises an eyebrow in question, but neither of them says anything.

"Has anyone seen Yvonne?" Zach asks, obviously trying to change the subject.

"Oh," Blaine says, feeling even more uncomfortable. "Um, she's not coming?"

"She sick again?"

"I was… well, I was sort of promoted the other day. And um, well…"

"Oh my god, Blaine…that's fantastic!" Kurt says, throwing his arms around Blaine. Blaine doesn't even react for a second or two because he can't believe Kurt is hugging him. When he finally lifts a hand to press into Kurt's back, Kurt is already pulling away and refusing to make eye contact.

"Thanks," Blaine says, running a hand along the back of his neck self-consciously while Kurt bounces on the balls of his feet like an eager child.

"We should celebrate," Kurt says.

"Oh, you don't have to…"

"No, Blaine," Kurt says. "This is a big deal. You have to celebrate, and it's my treat."

Blaine presses his lips together and looks back and forth between Kurt and Zach, unsure of what to say.

"Come on," Kurt says. "Just one drink… with a friend. It's a major milestone in your career. You need to stop and appreciate it."

"But it's Friday night," Blaine says. "I'm sure you already have plans."

"Well, I do," Kurt says, looking a little uncomfortable at the admission. "But that's not until later. I have time for one drink."

Blaine isn't sure what he thinks of that piece of information. Kurt has plans, a date perhaps. But he wants to take Blaine out first. As friends.

"Zach?" Blaine says. "Care to join us?"

"Can't, man," Zach replies, looking up from where he's kneeling on the ground. "The girlfriend will flip if I don't head straight home tonight. We haven't seen each other in three days." His mouth quirks up in a smirk as he returns his attention to his camera bag. "But uh, you kids have fun."

Kurt doesn't notice the look Zach is giving them, and he clasps his hands together excitedly.

"So just you and me then," he says. "I have to go find Tina and Ben, but try and think of a place you'd want to go." And he heads off toward the cabin they're using for the day.

Blaine watches him go until he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. He looks down at Zach who is shaking his head and laughing.

"From enemies to lovers just like that."

"We're just friends, Zach. It's not a date."

"Okay, okay," he says, standing up and dusting off his knees. "It's not a date. But then why are you blushing?" He brushes past Blaine and leaves him staring open-mouthed at the thought.

* * *

Convincing Zach that he and Kurt are just friends might be easier than convincing his own racing heart, which picks up rapidly when he accidentally overhears a conversation between Kurt and Tina.

"It's not like that. I asked him out strictly as friends. Coworkers even."

"Coworkers?" Tina says. "Like... _friendly_ coworkers who occasionally hate each other and have to see one another in their underwear."

Kurt's scowls at her and she laughs just as Blaine steps around the corner and into the room.

"Technically speaking, Tina, only one of us has seen the other in their underwear," Blaine says, interrupting and saving Kurt from the same embarrassing fate he'd had to endure with Zach.

Kurt's face flushes in the split second it takes him to realize that Blaine overheard their conversation.

"Stop rubbing it in, Blaine," Kurt says, quickly composing himself. "I was just telling Tina about your promotion."

Kurt's teasing makes Blaine smile.

"Congratulations, Blaine," Tina says. "Kurt says you're going out to celebrate."

"Yes, and I told her we're just friends. It's not a date," Kurt adds quickly.

"No, of course not," Blaine says, his nerves returning now that Kurt seems flustered. "Kurt already has a date tonight, and it's certainly not me. Just a friendly celebratory drink."

He's rambling. He knows it, but it's like verbal diarrhea; it can't be stopped. He just needs to focus his thoughts on something. Anything.

"In fact, you're free to join us," he says.

Manners. Yes, Blaine thinks. This is the polite thing to do.

Tina smiles at him. "Thanks but I've got to pick the rugrat up from her dad's and then it's our traditional Friday night Disney princess marathon. I lead an exciting life, I know. But you boys have fun."

Blaine breathes a sigh of relief. Not that he doesn't like Tina, but well, that's just too much pressure on him and Kurt for their first… time hanging out outside of work. God, why did he think first date? It's _not_ a date.

He glances at Kurt, whose eyes are closed as Tina finishes up his makeup. Wow, Kurt looks great in that blue sweater.

Not a date, he reminds himself.

"See you later," he mumbles and leaves Kurt in Tina's capable hands.

* * *

Blaine suggests a hole-in-the-wall wine bar near his apartment; one of those places that serves wine in oversized glasses that they only ever fill a third of the way and charge twice the price just because. Blaine picks it because it's familiar and he's a little nervous about being alone with Kurt again, though what he tells Kurt is they have this really amazing wine and cheese pairing thing they do every Friday night. "You wouldn't believe how much better the wine tastes, Kurt," he gushes.

Kurt looks unimpressed, but tells him he'll meet him there at 7. He has to go home and get changed for his date.

Blaine gets there first and grabs a small corner table, for absolutely no other reason than avoiding getting trampled on by people making their way to the bar. None.

The thing is, even though they both said it isn't a date — because Kurt clearly already has a date for the evening, and damn if that guy isn't the luckiest guy in town because Kurt looks amazing tonight — it _feels_ like a date.

"I bought you something," Kurt says, a sly smile playing on his lips.

"You … what?"

"A gift," he says as if it's the simplest thing he'll ever do. "To celebrate… you."

He hands Blaine a small, brown gift bag, overflowing with teal tissue paper and a small card that reads "To Blaine… your friend, Kurt."

Blaine looks up to smile at him and says "thank you."

Kurt rolls his eyes and playfully swats his knee. "You haven't even opened it yet, silly."

Blaine's smile grows wider as he digs into the paper like a child on Christmas morning. His hands close around something soft — it feels like some sort of fabric. He tugs it out of the bag, the tissue paper falling to the floor at his feet, and finds a small, grey cotton bundle. Blaine shakes it out to reveal a t-shirt sporting the phrase "crop it like it's hot" over a watermarked image of a crop tool.

When he glances at Kurt he can see the giddy excitement in his eyes threatening to spill over. Blaine can't help himself as he giggles.

"Oh my god, Kurt. This is perfect."

"I knew you'd like it," Kurt says, leaning back a little in his seat. He waves a waitress over. "I hope it fits. I kind of guessed at your size."

Blaine holds it up to read the tag. "Looks like it'll be fine," he says. "Might be a little… snug."

"I think you can pull it off," Kurt says with a shrug.

Blaine is caught off guard by the compliment, but doesn't really have time to react or even say thank you because the waitress has just asked Kurt what he wants to drink.

"I'll take your house Shiraz," Kurt says.

The waitress looks at Blaine. "Would you like another glass?"

Blaine nods and hands her his empty wine glass. There's an uncomfortable silence for a few moments until Kurt breaks the tension.

"So tell me something I don't know about you," he says, leaning toward Blaine with genuine interest in his eyes.

"Um, well…"

"Oh come on, Blaine. Something juicy. Something you haven't told a living soul. Or wait. No… something embarrassing. A ridiculous high school story about how you got drunk at a party and made out with a girl."

Blaine puffs out a sharp laugh.

"That actually sort of happened," Blaine says. Kurt giggles.

"Really? Me too," Kurt says. "Only I wasn't drunk. I was mostly trying to prove to my dad I was straight."

"Did it work?" Blaine asks growing more serious.

"Might have been more convincing if it hadn't happened _after_ I came out."

"That might have been a giveaway, yeah," Blaine says.

There's a small, but electricity-charged moment where they make eye contact, both laughing at the same thing and it feels like _something_. Like something magical is trying to take hold. A thrilling jolt of new and exciting and perfect. But only if it's captured and cherished, gets nourished and worshipped, will it grow to its full size. Only then will it expand and mature and become everything.

The moment is fleeting because, for no reason he can place, Blaine is remembering what it felt like to be 17 and just really owning his sexuality for the first time in his life. Lonely, scared, feeling unwanted and judged by his parents, and then briefly dating his friend Misty because it was easier than living the truth.

Just as quickly as it came, the moment had already passed.

"Oh wow," he says. "I just realized I'm remembering something that happened almost 15 years ago, and you're thinking about something that probably happened last Tuesday. God I'm old."

"You're not old," Kurt says. "And anyway, you _look_ 19."

Blaine raises his eyebrows at Kurt and purses his lips.

"Okay, 24. But you're not old."

Kurt's phone buzzes and he picks it up off the table. "Shit."

"What is it?" Blaine asks. "Something wrong?"

"I'm just having a really good time," he says.

"And you have to go," Blaine says. He looks down, feeling genuine disappointment that they can't talk longer.

Kurt tilts his head and looks thoughtful for a moment before glancing down at his phone and typing out a response. He sets it down and grins at Blaine.

"I haven't even had my drink yet. He can wait a little while longer."

Blaine feels something flutter in his chest at that. He tries to tamp it down because if he lets it unfurl and take flight, it might get away from him. And it's too soon. So he convinces himself that maybe Kurt's just being nice because he doesn't want to be rude by not actually having a drink. Because anything more than that is just a little terrifying and maybe, if he doesn't think about it too much, a little bit wonderful.

Still, there's a small part of him that hopes Kurt is staying because he enjoys Blaine's company; that they really _can_ be friends. Because this man, this striking god of a man, is too good to let go. Although, how Blaine knows that already is not something he's willing to address, even in his own inner ramblings.

As if on cue, their drinks arrive. Blaine practically lunges for his glass, needing the distraction of something to do with his hands. The waitress sets down the cheese plate he ordered before Kurt arrived and asks if they need anything else.

Blaine's voice seems to be failing him, so he just shakes his head at the same time Kurt says "no thank you."

When they're alone again, Kurt's lips part obscenely around the rim of the wine glass as the deep burgundy liquid passes over them. His bottom lip is full and pouty where it grips the thin glass. Kurt's eyes close as he holds the wine in his mouth, savoring the flavor of it. Blaine watches as his neck contracts and he swallows. It might be the most erotic thing he's ever seen.

"I'm so glad you wanted to do this, Blaine," Kurt says as if he hadn't just been making love to his wine while Blaine grew increasingly aroused sitting next to him.

Blaine blinks a few times, trying to clear his head, and smiles at him. "Thank you for celebrating with me," he says, lifting his glass to Kurt.

"To new adventures," Kurt says.

"To new adventures," Blaine replies, clinking his glass against Kurt's. They both drink with their eyes locked on each other and Blaine is certain it's another moment, but then Kurt's phone buzzes on the table, and it's gone. Kurt glances down at it and frowns.

"I'll be right back," he says. "I need to make a quick call."

Blaine watches Kurt walk through the crowded bar and out the front door. From their tiny table he can just barely see Kurt pacing the sidewalk in front of the bar's front window while he talks. For a second Blaine sees Kurt's face, and he looks annoyed, but it's fleeting because when Blaine sees him again, he's walking back through the bar and smiling tentatively at Blaine.

"So, I guess my date had to cancel," he says with a shrug.

"Oh, Kurt, I'm sorry."

Kurt waves him off. "It's okay," he says. "Just means you're stuck with me then."

"It would be my pleasure."

After that they order a bottle of wine and another cheese plate.

"So tell me about high school, Blaine," Kurt says. "Were you out?"

"Not at first," he says, remembering what his first high school had been like. "I was kind of shy."

"You?" Kurt teases, mouth open in mock surprise. "Never."

"Shut up," Blaine says. "Do you want to hear this story or not?"

Kurt gestures for him to continue while he takes another sip of wine. Kurt absently licks the rim of the glass and Blaine has to avert his eyes to keep from tackling him there in the bar.

"So, as I was saying," he continues. "I didn't really come out until spring of my freshman year. And uh… well, it was kind of tough for me. I was teased, which led to bullying." He pauses and takes a deep breath. "Which led to getting assaulted after a school dance."

"Oh my god," Kurt says. "That's awful."

"It was a long time ago," Blaine reassures. "Anyway, after that my parents sent me to a private school with a zero-tolerance bullying policy and I came out of my shell. Joined the school's a capella group, even had a boyfriend." He tips his glass in Kurt's direction and takes another sip.

Kurt's eyes go wide and a playful grin lights up his face.

"You sing?"

Blaine nods.

"Are you any good?"

"Well, I was the lead singer of the Warblers," he says. "I can hold my own."

"Me too," Kurt says.

"You were the lead singer of the Warblers?" Blaine asks. Maybe the wine is dulling his senses a little.

Kurt laughs. "No, but I was in my high school's glee club. We won nationals my senior year."

"Small world," Blaine says.

"Isn't it though?"

They sit talking like that for hours — discovering that they both grew up in Ohio; Kurt tells Blaine that his mother died when he was 8; Blaine tells Kurt how he always felt like he lived in his older brother's shadow — until their server returns to ask if they want another bottle, which would actually be their third if Blaine's counted correctly. His head is spinning and he's not quite sure he's ready to leave, but it's getting late.

"Um, maybe just our check," he says.

"It's on me," Kurt says, his words coming out slurred and giggly as he reaches for his wallet.

"Fine, but then you need to finish this cheese," Blaine says, holding it out for Kurt to take.

"No way," he says, shaking his head to emphasize his point. "That will go straight to my hips, and I've had enough dairy to last me for the next month."

"Oh come on," Blaine says. "Your hips are fine. Trust me, I should know. I've spent hours staring at them."

"Of course they are," Kurt says. "Yoga, cardio six times a week..." Kurt trails off and gapes at Blaine.

"For work," he says, eyes wide. "I meant for work. I have to edit a lot of photos of you and I have to retouch sometimes, and your hips. Well, they're just _not_ problematic. That I've noticed."

"Oh right, work," Kurt says, waving of Blaine's rambling. "Of course. I knew that."

Silence envelops them again, but this time instead of a heated tension, it's like easing into a warm bath. Kurt's eyes are shining and bright. Blaine just wants to lose himself in them.

"I should probably go," Kurt says suddenly. He stands and sways on his feet.

"Whoa," Blaine says, reaching out for his hand and pulling him back into his chair. "Easy there."

"I'm fine," Kurt says. "Just caught up– I mean, _got_ up too fast."

"I should probably call you a cab," Blaine says.

"What about you?" Kurt says, pouting. He looks adorable and sexy, and if Blaine doesn't get out of here soon, he's going to do something really stupid like kiss him.

"I live within walking distance," Blaine replies. "I'll be fine."

"Whereas I'm a hot mess," Kurt says, swaying in his seat.

"I wouldn't say that."

"Well, what would you say?" he asks.

Kurt smiles at him, eyelids heavy, lips a flushed a deep pink from the wine. He looks like pure sex.

Blaine swallows around the cotton feeling in his mouth. If he says what he wants to say, it could be a turning point. That path is probably best left unexplored at this point.

"I'd say, we both need to sleep this off."

"Fine," Kurt says. "I just don't wanna go home."

"Well, I don't think you should have any more to drink tonight," Blaine says.

"Easy, old man. That's not what I meant." Kurt giggles. "I want to go to your house," he says.

Blaine doesn't respond right away. He's not sure what to think, but he knows Kurt is in no state to get himself home, and Blaine's apartment is only three blocks away.

"Ok," he says, sounding far more shaky than he would like.

* * *

They stumble through the door, Blaine dropping his keys and nearly having Kurt fall on top of him as he bends to pick them up. Blaine flips on his hall light and tries to extricate Kurt from his lightweight sweater, but they're both stumbling and Kurt is giggling and half asleep, and there are a lot of buttons. So Blaine gives up and leads Kurt into the living room.

Kurt sits and Blaine removes each one of his boots gently. He eases Kurt down on the couch, careful to make sure a throw pillow is beneath his head. Then he grabs the fleece blanket from the back of the sofa and drapes it over Kurt's legs.

"Blaine?" Kurt mutters, eyes closed and voice heavy with alcohol and sleep.

"Yeah."

"I'm really glad I canceled my date."

His breath catches. Did he hear that right? He waits, thinking Kurt might repeat himself or clarify. But he's silent. When Blaine hears Kurt's breath even out, he's all but certain he's fallen asleep.

"Me too," he says into the darkness. "Goodnight, Kurt."

He resists the urge to kiss Kurt's forehead and stumbles his way to his bedroom, unsure if he's more drunk off the wine or the realization that Kurt had canceled his date to be with him.


	6. Chapter 6

When Blaine wakes up in the morning, there's no sign of Kurt. Blaine's heart sinks at the sight of the empty sofa and the distinct lack of Kurt's Doc Martens under the coffee table. It shouldn't feel that awful; Kurt probably had things to do and didn't want to bother Blaine by waking him up. But it still hurts because part of him had been holding out hope he could make coffee and they could chat over pancakes.

But none of that is happening today because Kurt is gone. The apartment is empty and dark; it feels cold. Blaine runs his hands through his hair, wondering how long ago Kurt left. It's just a little after 7, still early. He might not even be home yet.

He retreats to his bedroom to grab his phone.

Blaine:  
You make it home ok?

Kurt:  
Just walked through the door. Sorry about last night. I can be kind of clingy when I've been drinking.

Blaine doesn't remember clingy. He remembers stunning, witty, sexy, maybe a little giggly, but not clingy.

Blaine:  
No problem. You were a perfect gentleman and passed out about ten seconds after we walked in the door.

Kurt:  
Oh god. Sorry… again.

Blaine:  
It's fine. I'm just glad you got home safe.

Kurt:  
Perfectly safe, just hung over.

Kurt:  
Congrats again on the promotion.

Blaine:  
Thanks! I had fun. We should do it again, but maybe stop after one bottle. ;)

Blaine tries to ignore the voice in the back of his mind telling him he screwed it all up when he doesn't get a response to his last text message.

* * *

Blaine doesn't hear from Kurt for at least a week after that. He tries not to think about it too much because he doesn't think Kurt would appreciate him pushing the issue. Obviously Kurt needs his space. Or maybe he hasn't given Blaine or their night out another thought. What's funny is Blaine isn't really sure which scenario hurts less.

The tipping point turns out to be another random encounter, much like running into Kurt at the club. Well, it gives Blaine the same terrified yet exhilarated feeling at any rate.

He's standing in line for coffee, bleary-eyed and half awake, at a coffee shop he's never been to before. He was on his way to a press check on the other side of town and in desperate need of caffeine.

"One medium drip." The voice washes over him like warm honey, bright and mildly sweet. It tickles down to his toes.

"Kurt," he says.

Blaine turns to his right and sees Kurt looking more striking than he even dared to remember. His hair is high, swooped back from his face in its usual style, but it looks like Kurt's gotten highlights since the last photo shoot. The bright flecks of gold bring out the rosy tones of his complexion. Blaine smiles.

"Hi, Blaine."

"You bought me coffee," he says, incredulous.

"I saw you come in right before I ordered. Thought I'd save you some time."

"Thanks."

Blaine steps out of line and takes the paper cup from Kurt; the warmth of Kurt's skin when their hands fleetingly brush comforts Blaine a little.

"You got a second?" Kurt asks. The way he's looking at Blaine — all wide eyes and expectant hesitation — makes him wish he hadn't hit snooze three times that morning.

"I'm kind of running late," Blaine says.

Kurt's face falls, taking Blaine's heart right along with it as if it were attached to Kurt's emotions by a thread.

"But I can spare a couple of minutes," Blaine blurts out. "Someone saved me a little time by buying my coffee."

Kurt's closed-lip smile might be the cutest thing Blaine has ever seen.

"I just wanted to apologize again about last week. I don't want you to think all I do is go out and get drunk and flirt with guys."

"I didn't think that."

"Right, well, I'd like to still be your friend," Kurt says. The fear of rejection in his eyes is so intense, Blaine wants to wrap him in a tight hug. "If that's still an option?"

Blaine bites back a laugh as Kurt toys with his coffee cup.

"Kurt." He ducks down to meet Kurt's downcast gaze. "Our friendship is not dependent on how drunk or sober you are at any given point in time. Of course we're still friends."

Kurt shifts his gaze from his coffee cup, meeting Blaine's eyes and smiling tentatively. "I was just worried I made a fool out of myself and you would think I was just some dumb kid who didn't know how to hold his drink."

Blaine doesn't fight the laughter this time.

"Are you kidding? I was just as drunk as you were."

"I wish I could remember," Kurt says. "I bet you were an even bigger dork."

"Not possible," Blaine says.

"That's true. You're a pretty big dork sober."

"You really don't remember _anything _from the other night?"

"No," Kurt says. "Why? Did something happen?"

"Nothing to be embarrassed about," Blaine reassures. "You're kind of adorable when you're drunk." And you canceled your date, Blaine thinks absently. He's thought about it so much at this point that he's surprised he didn't just blurt it out and embarrass them both.

Kurt's expression wavers, his eyes unable to focus on any one part of Blaine's face, like he's caught somewhere between flattered and embarrassed.

The irresistible pull Blaine always feels when he locks eyes with Kurt comes back in full force when Kurt finally looks at him, and he wants to say something. Ask Kurt if he feels it too and seek reassurance that he's not alone in this overwhelming sense of being right where he should be. He needs to know if Kurt senses the magnetic force of the world spinning around them stopping and holding them in place. Does Kurt feel the same rush of ecstasy from these moments? Is his heart beating double time at the thought of confessing his feelings?

"Listen, I've, uh, got to run, but did you want to maybe get coffee again tomorrow? I can meet you here at, say…" He checks his watch. "8:30?"

"I'd like that," Kurt says, looking at Blaine fondly. Blaine feels warm all over, the string on his heart tugging skyward, like it might float away.

"Okay. See you then."

When his hand hits the door, he turns back for a second, admiring the way Kurt adjusts the leather bag on his shoulder, making sure his shirt isn't wrinkled. Then he twists to check the back of his red pants; Blaine notices the way the sheen of the waxed denim highlights every inch of his legs. He's perfect.

"Oh, and Kurt."

"Yeah?"

"You're not some dumb kid."

* * *

It's strange and surprising how natural—-inevitable, almost—it feels when Kurt starts calling or texting Blaine at random moments. The way Blaine can't help but send Kurt photos of projects he's working on: sneak peeks at spring lines of designers who have booked Price to work on their campaigns, location possibilities for upcoming shoots, hideous logo ideas.

Kurt responds to them all, offering opinions that are often scathing or the occasional gushing praise.

A last-minute movie night at Blaine's apartment — because Kurt had never seen "Vertigo" and Blaine couldn't imagine not having seen every Hitchcock movie ever made — becomes the first in a series of not-dates, with Kurt and Blaine relying on each other for company because their schedules are too unpredictable for anything else. They also meet for coffee pretty much every morning, even though it's about 15 minutes out of Blaine's way.

"I'm sorry about dinner last night," Kurt says over their usual Tuesday morning coffee, when Tuesday morning coffee has somehow become something that they do together, along with regular movie nights at Blaine's apartment and the occasional outing with mutual friends. For some reason, everyone thinks they're dating. Blaine doesn't understand it at all. They're just friends. "I didn't think that shoot would run quite so long."

"It's okay. I fell asleep on the couch around 10 anyway."

"No wonder we're both single." Kurt exaggerates it with an eye roll, making Blaine laugh. He's definitely single, but it's not like Kurt doesn't have prospects. Now that Blaine thinks about it, Kurt spends most of his free time with him. It seems odd that he'd want to spend so much time with his friends when he could be dating.

"What about that guy who canceled? He ever reschedule? If I'm cramping your style–"

Kurt shifts nervously in his seat and says, "Oh I don't think that's really going anywhere."

"Too bad."

Kurt hums noncommittally and Blaine decides not to push for more. If Kurt remembers next to nothing of the night he stayed over, Blaine can't even know if what Kurt had said about canceling the date was true. Kurt had been drunk, after all.

They've never talked about it, and he doesn't want to embarrass Kurt by bringing it up. Or worse, giving Kurt the impression that Blaine thinks he's a liar. Besides, maybe he's reading too much into it. It's entirely possible that Kurt wasn't really interested in the guy to begin with and had been looking for an excuse to cancel. Celebrating a friend's promotion was an easy out; Blaine's probably fixating on it for nothing.

Reminded of work by his own thoughts, Blaine glances at his watch.

"Shit, I'm going to be late." He picks up his empty coffee cup and grabs his computer bag. "Oh by the way, Yvonne says they're doing a special screening of _Gone With the Wind _at the Trocadero on Friday. Do you want to go?"

"Do you even have to ask?" Kurt asks. "Clark Gable, gorgeous costumes, high drama. If that doesn't scream Kurt Hummel, I don't know what does."

"How silly of me," Blaine teases. "I should have known."

"Meet you there at 7?" Kurt asks, picking up his bag from the back of his chair.

"Sure. Dinner after?" Blaine suggests as he throws away his trash.

"Of course."

Blaine holds the door for Kurt, watching him until he turns the corner, before heading in the opposite direction, humming to himself.

* * *

"Good morning, Blaine," Tina says, smiling as she approaches. "Ben says we have a couple new guys starting today."

"Oh yeah, sorry. I thought you knew," he says. "Adamo and, uh… Sebastian, I think."

She sighs heavily and tucks a bright blue strand of hair behind her ear.

"Don't worry. We'll make it work," she says.

"I know you will," Blaine says, kissing her on the cheek. "That's why you're my favorite."

"Stop trying to butter me up and just promise me you'll send them into hair and makeup as soon as they get here. We're going to be pressed for time as it is."

"Of course. Anything you want," he says. "You're a doll."

Tina smiles and waves him off, leaving Blaine to finish setting up for the day.

Jan West had insisted on doing group shots to fill out the holiday campaign. So Blaine and Yvonne hired two new models. Adamo, a striking Italian, with gorgeous olive skin and glossy, dark hair, speaks next to no English, and communicates almost exclusively in clichéd pick up lines and movie quotes. The other model, Sebastian, is a lanky brunet who spent the better part of the last two years working in Paris and makes a point of telling everyone that.

Yvonne had rolled her eyes at Blaine when he had been hesitant to hire Sebastian because he kept winking at him during the casting.

"Suck it up," she said. "He's hot."

Blaine still isn't quite sure what to make of Sebastian when he introduces himself at the photo shoot.

"Oh you're much sexier than my last art director," Sebastian says, grinning lasciviously at Blaine. "Sebastian Smythe. Very nice to meet you."

He holds out a hand.

"Blaine Anderson," he says. "We met at the casting."

"I know," Sebastian says, winking.

"Right," Blaine says. "Um, you need to get to hair and makeup right away." He points over Sebastian's shoulder. "We're kind of running behind already."

"See you later, killer," Sebastian says and walks away, leaving Blaine feeling like Sebastian might as well have smacked him on the ass.

"Oh my god. What are _you_ doing here?"

Blaine turns at the sound of Kurt's voice and sees him talking to Sebastian.

"Hey, princess," Sebastian says. "What a small world. You just book this job too?"

"I've been working with this client for weeks," Kurt replies, shoulders back and head high.

"Guess they wanted a _new_ look," Sebastian says.

"Yeah, I hear the douchebag look is all the rage this spring," Kurt replies. He crosses his arms and looks down his nose at Sebastian the way he had at Blaine when they'd first met.

Blaine bristles for reasons he can't quite understand. Why should it bother him if Kurt's just as rude to Sebastian as he was to Blaine? It's just how he is with everyone.

No, not everyone, Blaine thinks, just me. He only talks to me like that.

Blaine doesn't want to think about why that bothers him.

"Gentlemen," he says, composing himself. "We need to get you both into hair and makeup ASAP. You can bicker in there."

Kurt glares at Blaine but heads off immediately; Sebastian stays behind. He looms over Blaine; it intimidates him, and the look on his face makes Blaine think Sebastian is fully aware of how unnerving it is.

"You're sexy when you take charge," he says smirking.

"Uh, thank you," Blaine says. He's not really sure what else to say, but he's flattered by Sebastian's attention. Even if it does rattle his nerves in a way he didn't expect.

And then Sebastian is gone. Blaine's heart is racing and he's not really sure why.

* * *

Blaine doesn't have much time to dwell on what's going through his head, though, because he's running behind most of the day, and well, Kurt is just acting strange.

"Blaine, would you mind getting me a towel?" he asks, while Zach moves some lights.

"Uh, sure."

It's the first time Kurt's accepted Blaine's assistance on set, let alone asked for it outright. Blaine tries not to consider the reasons behind it, handing over the towel and watching Kurt as he makes a show of running his hand along Blaine's wrist, eyes on Sebastian the whole time.

Kurt gives him a soft "thanks" and a too-bright smile. The playful light in Kurt's eyes makes Blaine's heart flutter with anticipation. Like maybe Kurt should always look at him this way.

There's too little time to indulge in such thoughts, though. Between Adamo's inability to follow simple directions and Sebastian's blatant flirting, Blaine spends most of the day feeling like he's playing catch up with himself. They don't even get through all of the shots.

Kurt's behavior is what really has Blaine's head spinning, though.

He goes out of his way to touch Blaine whenever he can, always making sure Sebastian is watching. Meanwhile, Sebastian is doing his best to catch Blaine's attention. Kurt seems to double his efforts whenever Sebastian is being particularly smarmy. It would be comical if Blaine wasn't so stressed already.

"Blaine, can you help me with this zipper?" Sebastian asks, struggling with his fly. "I don't know what's wrong with it."

"Ben!" Kurt shouts. "Sebastian needs help with his pants!" He turns to Blaine. "Could you get me some water?"

Ben calls Sebastian over and Blaine hands Kurt his water. There are no lingering touches or flirty giggles this time, though. Just an urgent tug on his sleeve.

"Blaine, listen," Kurt says quietly. "I need to tell you something."

"What's up?" Blaine asks.

"It's about Sebastian," he whispers, glancing over to where Ben is examining Sebastian's fly.

"Okay."

Kurt leans in and says, "Don't go out with him, please."

"Not that he's asked, but why not?"

"Just… don't," Kurt says, picking at the label on the water bottle and not making eye contact. "Sebastian is..."

Kurt looks up mid-sentence, and his eyes go wide. He clamps his mouth shut before shooting a panicked look to Blaine.

"What about me, sweetheart?" Sebastian says, throwing an arm around Kurt. "You boys aren't fighting over me, are you?" He gives Kurt a playful smack on the ass, then leans toward Blaine and winks. "Plenty of me to go around."

Blaine looks at Kurt, who looks like he can't decide if he wants to disappear or throw up. Does Kurt have a crush on Sebastian? Maybe he's worried Blaine might swoop in and steal him.

"Jesus Christ, Sebastian, you're always in my face," Kurt sneers, shoving him away.

Or maybe not.

"We should talk later," Kurt says into Blaine's ear as he brushes past.

Sebastian's eyes follow Kurt until he's out of earshot.

"So you and the ice queen?" Sebastian asks, moving even closer to Blaine.

"Sorry… what?" Blaine furrows his brow as he turns back to Sebastian, unsure what to make of Kurt's behavior.

"You and Kurt look pretty… close," Sebastian says.

"Oh, well, we're friends," Blaine offers.

"_Just_ friends?"

"Yes," Blaine replies, tilting his head to the side. He's beginning to wonder why no one believes him. Obviously there is nothing going on between him and Kurt.

"Good, because I'd like to get your number," Sebastian says. "Maybe we could go out some time."

'Oh Sebastian, that's very sweet, but I don't think–"

Sebastian interrupts, holding a hand up and letting it graze Blaine's chest. "You don't have to answer that now. Let's just exchange numbers and see where that leads, okay?"

Blaine considers the suggestion. He's not sure if he's really interested in dating Sebastian, but the man is undeniably handsome. Tall and muscular in the way a swimmer might be, with piercing green eyes. It couldn't hurt to get to know him a little better. And he doesn't want to be rude.

"Yeah, sure. I suppose that would be okay," he says, handing Sebastian his phone. "But, um, I'm not really looking to date anyone."

"Who said anything about dating?" Sebastian replies while he enters his number and sends himself a text. "There, now I have yours too."

He hands Blaine his phone and grins wolfishly. "I'll be in touch."

Blaine just stares after him, immediately regretting his decision to hand Sebastian his phone. Something about the way Sebastian is pursuing him just feels wrong. It isn't like Blaine hasn't been propositioned before. In college, Blaine got hit on at least once a week, and, hell, his last serious boyfriend had started out as an attempted one-night stand. But Sebastian, well, he just seems even more aggressive than what Blaine is used to. Or maybe it's just the way Kurt reacted.

No, it's just a phone number. Maybe nothing will come of it. Sebastian will probably pick up some guy at a bar and forget all about the short, dorky art director with curly hair and feet that are too big for his body.

When Blaine glances up to see Kurt glaring at him from where he's talking to Ben, he _really_ wishes he hadn't felt the need to be so polite.

* * *

Kurt avoids Blaine for the rest of the day, shooting daggers at both him and Sebastian whenever they speak to each other. Blaine really doesn't like the gnawing feeling that's taken up residence in his chest. Everything feels wrong and he just wants to talk to Kurt, find out what's bothering him.

"Kurt, didn't you want to talk to me?" Blaine asks when everything is packed up for the day and Kurt looks like he's rushing to get home.

"Nevermind," Kurt says, shoving things in his bag and not making eye contact. He's seething. Blaine can see it, but he doesn't know what to do or say. "It's nothing. Just forget it."

"Kurt, what's wrong?"

"I just…" Kurt begins. Then he shakes his head as if he can't believe Blaine is so oblivious. "I can't believe you gave your number to Sebastian." He looks down at his hands and picks absently at his cuticles. It's the first time Blaine's seen Kurt look his age. He's beautiful.

What he can't figure out is why Kurt is back to being cold with him. Blaine thought Kurt had finally warmed up to him, decided to be his friend. Maybe he was wrong.

Then again, what if Kurt does have a crush on Sebastian? Blaine feels instantly guilty that he might have hurt Kurt's feelings in some way because of his stupid inability to say "no thank you."

"I'm sorry, Kurt. I didn't know you liked him."

"Oh my _god_," Kurt says, huffing out a breath on the last syllable. He turns on his heel just as Blaine grabs him by the wrist.

"Don't be embarrassed, Kurt," he says softly, releasing Kurt's wrist and placing his hand on his arm. "We've all had crushes before. If you like him, I'll back off."

"Don't do me any favors," Kurt says, yanking his arm away and still fuming. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Blaine notices that Kurt's shoulders sag as he walks away, his usually perfect posture faltering just the once. He's shocked at how badly he wants to run after Kurt and try to make it all better.

* * *

The problem with booking Adamo and Sebastian is they're easily three to four inches taller than Kurt and the height difference is pronounced in the group shots. Blaine is going to have to do a lot of extra work to correct the difference. At least Mike and David are within a couple inches of Kurt's height.

Blaine opens a few images on his computer and starts narrowing them down for Lorelei's approval.

"Whoa," Yvonne says over his shoulder. "You were swimming in hot guys yesterday."

"Classy… as always."

"I'm just saying, there's some serious eye candy there," Yvonne says.

She sits down at her desk and leans back in her chair. Blaine doesn't look up.

"What's got you so uptight?" Yvonne asks. "Did Jacques Cousteau hit on you again?"

Blaine chuckles. Yvonne is frighteningly perceptive.

"Gave me his number," Blaine says, turning to face her. "Kind of forced it on me, actually. It was an… _interesting_ experience to say the least."

Yvonne lifts an eyebrow.

"So are you going to go out with him?"

"I don't know," Blaine says. "Probably not."

"Why not?"

Blaine shrugs. "I'm not really interested."

"_Blaine_, he's hot," she says.

Blaine shrugs again. "So?"

"He's hot, and he's available and he likes you. How could you not be interested?"

"He's just not my type, Yvonne," Blaine says, focusing again on his screen. "And anyway, Kurt seemed kind of bothered by it."

"Kurt."

"Yeah. I think maybe he's interested in Sebastian."

"Right… Sebastian," she mumbles into her coffee mug. "Maybe he's just jealous."

"That's what I'm saying," Blaine says, turning back to face her.

"No, not because of Sebastian," Yvonne says, looking at him over the rim of her glasses. "Because of _you_."

"Me?"

"Mm hmm," Yvonne says, taking a drink of her coffee. "Did it ever occur to you that Kurt doesn't want Sebastian hitting on you because _he_ likes you?"

"Oh that's ridiculous. We're just friends."

Yvonne rolls her eyes.

"We are," Blaine insists. "He's a _kid_, Yvonne. He's 19, and I'm practically middle-aged."

"Watch it," she says. "I'm pushing 40."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do," she says. "But age is just a number, cupcake. And you're a good-looking single guy with a job. There's no way that escaped his attention."

"You make it sound like he's shopping for a car."

"Stop deflecting. Is it really such a stretch?" she asks. "I mean, you like him, right?"

"That's completely beside the point."

Blaine turns his chair back toward his desk and clicks around his screen, trying to force himself to get back to work.

"No, that's kind of exactly the point, Blaine," she says.

Blaine freezes.

"Why are you fighting this?" Yvonne asks quietly.

"I don't know," he replies.

"Well, you need to figure that out, Blaine," she says. "For both our sakes."


	7. Chapter 7

"Kurt, please call me back. I want to explain."

It's the third message Blaine's left on Kurt's voice mail, plus five text messages, all variations on the same theme. _I'm sorry. Please call me back. I haven't called Sebastian._

But Kurt doesn't call. There are no text messages, and Blaine isn't given a chance to explain. In fact, Kurt is out sick for almost two weeks, so Blaine doesn't see him at work either.

Sebastian, on the other hand, is omnipresent. And he wants Blaine to know it.

"So killer, you want to grab a drink after we finish up tonight?" Sebastian asks Blaine with his usual smirk.

It's only the second shoot Kurt's missed, but Blaine is already feeling uneasy, almost like his skin is the wrong size for his body. Not only that, but his promise to Kurt remains at the forefront of his thoughts, keeping him from accepting Sebastian's invitation out of courtesy.

But Sebastian is undeterred; his advances persist day after day, despite Blaine's endless refrain of "no thank you."

The longer Kurt's gone — and not returning Blaine's calls — the feeling of unease gradually gives way to plain old loneliness. Blaine considers one of Sebastian's offers of lunch, only to find himself even more determined to steer clear of him when he sees Sebastian flirting with Zach's assistant only moments later.

Sebastian is obviously not interested in friendship or dating, and there's still the issue of Kurt.

"Sebastian, I appreciate the offer," he says, "but I've got some work to catch up on, and I think I'll call Kurt to see how he's feeling."

If the disdain Sebastian's showing at the mention of Kurt's name is any indication, Blaine made the right choice. He can't betray Kurt by befriending Sebastian, let alone dating him.

"You don't really know Kurt that well, do you?" Sebastian asks, his lips twisting into a gross parody of a smile.

"I'm sorry?" Blaine says.

Sebastian sighs.

"Me too," he says. "He'll never give it up, you know. He doesn't do casual sex."

Blaine doesn't bother to tell Sebastian he's not looking for casual sex either because it's none of his business, and his mind has wandered back to Kurt.

In just a few weeks, Kurt had become Blaine's closest confidante and his best friend. Blaine misses him terribly, and knowing that Kurt might still be upset with him makes it all somehow worse. But that's the thing, isn't it? Blaine knows next to nothing about Kurt. When they're together they mostly talk about movies, music, or fashion; they rarely talk about personal things. So why is he putting his life on hold for someone he barely knows?

After Sebastian walks away, he picks up his phone, which has become an overwhelming backlog of unanswered texts and voicemails that he hasn't even bothered listening to. He's been neglecting his friends, only responding to work-related emails, and, in general, wanting to decline every offer to grab dinner, drinks, or coffee with anyone who's not Kurt.

Kurt is his friend, though, not his boyfriend. He knows he really should make an effort to see his other friends, but he doesn't want to.

Blaine notes three texts from Sebastian, each one a slight variation on an invitation to dinner. Sebastian is clearly interested. Regardless of how Kurt feels about him, Sebastian doesn't seem to feel the same way.

But it's Kurt. So he deletes Sebastian's texts.

He sets his phone down, promising himself he'll respond to Wes about going out with him, Trent, and Thad for his birthday. He never does.

Meanwhile, Sebastian's comment about Kurt niggles at the back of his mind the entire week, eating away at his resolve until it comes to a head the day after Blaine's 30th birthday. Without Kurt's presence to distract him, or even a text to wish him a happy birthday, Blaine had fallen deep into a bit of self-loathing and loneliness, drinking a bottle of wine by himself and passing out on his sofa at midnight. Quite frankly, the thought of spending another Friday night alone feels downright pathetic.

Maybe that's why his guard is down the next time Sebastian asks him out.

"Blaine, when are you going to give in and go out on one little, harmless date with me?"

Blaine glances up and makes eye contact with Sebastian for the first time that day. He looks hopeful, all traces of the usual predator gone. That's new.

"Are you free tonight?"

Sebastian's face lights up.

* * *

"So what changed your mind, Blaine?" Sebastian asks, glancing over his glass at Blaine with gleaming eyes.

Blaine takes a deep breath.

"To be honest, I'm not quite sure."

It's a lie, of course. He's here to prove something to himself, about his feelings for Kurt, about his own sanity. He's lonely and bored; he's also worried he's become too attached to his best friend. A man – no not a man, a _boy_ – who is too young for him.

"Wow, way to flatter a guy."

He's being sarcastic, of course. Not that it matters. Sebastian has a body that Blaine wouldn't mind exploring with his tongue. The only problem is Sebastian acts like he knows it. It's unnerving.

"No, that's not what I meant," Blaine says. "I mean, well, you're an attractive guy, Sebastian. And I'm not getting any younger. I'd be crazy not to give you a shot."

Blaine takes another swig from his Jack and Coke, the heat of the liquor making his face feel warm and flushed.

"So I'm like a pre-midlife crisis date?"

"No, no," Blaine insists, dropping his head in reaction to his mild embarrassment over insulting Sebastian twice in the last minute. "It's hard to explain, but… Okay, have you ever had a moment in your life where you thought 'What am I waiting for?' Like you realized you needed to seize the moment or something?"

"Maybe," Sebastian says. "So this is you seizing the moment?" He looks bored, like he doesn't quite care what the answer to that question is.

Blaine considers his inquiry anyway. Is this a moment worthy of seizing? Is Sebastian worth it? Kurt is so young, not to mention Blaine's _friend_. Even in his mind, he can almost taste the bitterness of the word on his tongue, but acknowledging his feelings for Kurt is out of the question. With Sebastian there and Kurt out of the picture, it's easy to rationalize his decision.

"Well, yeah."

Another lie. What he's really thinking about is seizing one of those moments with Kurt. Taking a chance when the sparks fly and the heat between them sizzles and pops. Convincing himself that he's talking about taking a chance with Sebastian becomes easier without the quiet thrill of Kurt's presence there to remind him.

"I can work with that," Sebastian says.

Blaine looks down at his drink and rolls the glass in his hand, watching the deep amber liquid swirl around the ice cubes. He might as well make the most of the evening.

"So how did you get into modeling?" Blaine asks, cheerfully taking control of the conversation along with a bite of his salad. "Was it planned or did you just stumble on it like Kurt?"

Sebastian's calm expression falters slightly at another mention of Kurt's name, but only for a fraction of a second.

"A little of both," he says.

"So you had a _plan_ to stumble on it?" Blaine teases.

"Something like that. My agent is actually a friend of the family. He'd been bugging me for years. So I lucked out a little bit in the beginning, but I do actually want to be a model."

"Are you into fashion?" Blaine asks, thinking about Kurt.

"No, I'm in it for the hot guys," Sebastian says, pointing his fork at Blaine. "Being a model makes it easier to get laid."

Sebastian winks, and Blaine coughs as a piece of mushroom catches in his throat.

"I-is that an important thing to you?" Blaine sputters before wiping his mouth with his napkin.

Sebastian chuckles. "Sex?" Blaine nods, and Sebastian continues, "Well, I am a fan." His smile is teasing, playful.

Blaine chews slowly, unsure of what to say to that. He can't argue the point. Sex, as a rule, is something Blaine enjoys. The idea of no-strings-attached sex had never been his particular cup of tea, but he'd never begrudge someone else of indulging. Blaine has always been of the mindset that as long as it's consensual, people should do what they want in bed — or anywhere else for that matter. And really, Sebastian could have just about any guy he wants. It makes sense.

But having spent so much time with Kurt as of late, Sebastian's cavalier attitude feels so foreign, and Blaine can't help but wonder if his opinion of Kurt is entirely accurate.

"What did you mean when you said I don't really know Kurt?"

Sebastian sets his fork down with a sigh and steeples his hands under his chin.

"Has he ever told you anything about himself?"

"Some things, yes," Blaine says quickly, feeling defensive. Kurt has obviously kept things from him, but Sebastian doesn't need to know that.

"But nothing of real substance, right?"

Sebastian takes Blaine's silence as confirmation.

"I'm just saying, he doesn't let people get close. You don't know him. Trust me, I've seen it before."

Blaine looks down at his plate, moving an olive around with his fork. He doesn't want to dwell on how much more Sebastian might know about Kurt. He's also afraid if he continues to think or talk about Kurt, his feelings will be on full display for Sebastian to mock, or worse, tell Kurt.

"So tell me something about you," Blaine says, changing the subject again. It feels like a betrayal to even consider getting information on Kurt from someone else. He can wait for Kurt to tell him.

Sebastian grins and then sighs before answering.

"My father's a state's attorney. He married my mother for her money, which she used to buy new tits after she used it to bag a husband. I have an older sister, Jacqueline. She's at Harvard Law, living out the family dream and hating every minute of it. I'm the gay disappointment of a son who's only accepted because he made it big as a model and mommy dearest can show me off to all her over-medicated Junior League harpies. I let them gush about my washboard abs while they talk about how their husbands are all on Viagra so they can fuck their secretaries stupid. Meanwhile, I'm usually fucking their closeted sons or hetero-flexible pool boys."

Blaine bites his lip, but a laugh escapes anyway.

"It's okay," Sebastian says when Blaine covers his mouth. "You can laugh. It's ridiculous even to me, and I lived it."

"Reminds me a little of my family," Blaine confesses with a genuine smile. Suddenly Sebastian doesn't seem so bad.

* * *

After dinner, Sebastian suggests they check out a small club where he knows the DJ. In for a penny, in for a pound, Blaine decides, and agrees to join him. Besides, they've uncovered a shared experience in their past — well, a similar one at least. Blaine can relate to Sebastian in a way, and he can tell neither of them wants to go home alone yet. Too much like their childhoods.

There are shots and dancing and more shots. And then kissing. Sebastian's tongue feels nice, and his muscles are firm under Blaine's hands where they grip at his sides.

"Let's go to my place," Sebastian says into his ear. His voice is low, a hot breath tickling Blaine's neck.

"But we're dancing," Blaine says, straining to be heard over the thrumming bass line.

"It's getting crowded," Sebastian says, fanning himself. "And hot. Come on… let's get out of here."

Blaine feels the sheen of sweat on his face and back acutely now. Why hadn't he noticed that before?

"Um, okay," he says.

Sebastian grins at him and grabs him by the hand, leading him off the dance floor and toward the door.

Blaine barely remembers how they get to Sebastian's apartment, focusing instead on the pavement beneath his feet as they walk. His head is swimming and the air feels cool on his face now that they're outside.

"This is me," Sebastian says, holding a door open for Blaine to walk through. They climb three flights of stairs and Sebastian pulls out his keys. No sooner than they're through the door, Sebastian's mouth is on Blaine's, his tongue forcing its way between his parted lips when Blaine gasps.

Blaine kisses back out of instinct, letting the feeling wash over him, until finally his alcohol-soaked brain catches up.

"I think I need a drink of water," Blaine rasps.

"Mmm," Sebastian murmurs. "Your mouth doesn't feel dry." His lips are on Blaine's again and then trailing down his neck.

Blaine moans when Sebastian finds a sensitive spot behind his ear.

"You like that?" Sebastian nips at it with his teeth, and Blaine moans louder.

"God, I bet you're a talker," Sebastian says between kisses. He grips Blaine's shirt in his hands and tugs it free of his pants, trailing his palms up and down Blaine's back.

When a hand presses into the small of his back and then drifts down to cup an ass cheek, Blaine freezes.

"Sebastian, stop," he says, tapping him on the shoulder.

"Huh?" Sebastian mumbles, his tongue tracing a pattern on Blaine's ear.

"Stop." His voice is louder this time, more firm.

Sebastian stops licking Blaine's ear and his hands still.

"Seriously?"

When Sebastian doesn't get a response right away, he presses a small kiss to Blaine's neck. "Come on… doesn't this feel good?" He squeezes Blaine's ass again.

"Not tonight," he says.

Sebastian's left hand reaches down and cups Blaine's crotch, smiling when he finds Blaine half hard. "You don't mean that," he says.

"Get off," Blaine says, pushing on Sebastian's shoulders. Sebastian doesn't move, though. His eyes are flashing with something that makes Blaine's pulse race. It has a sobering effect too.

Blaine shoves harder the second time and says, "I'm not that easy. Not tonight."

What Blaine means is, "not ever," because there's no way that he'd ever sleep with a guy who has even this much trouble taking no for an answer.

Sebastian removes his hands from Blaine's lower half, but stays well within his personal space, bringing his hands up to frame Blaine's body against his front door. He glares down at Blaine, his grey-green eyes burning with a ferocity Blaine hasn't seen on him before.

"Christ, you're as bad as Hummel," Sebastian says, pushing off from the door and pointing at Blaine. "Actually no, you're worse."

"What are you talking about?" Blaine asks, standing up straight and tucking his shirt back into his pants.

"At least he put out first!"

"He… what?" Blaine stammers. Sebastian must find the look of shock on his face amusing because he laughs.

"Oh yeah," he says. "Kurt was a fantastic fuck. Not much of a talker, but he makes these delicious noises, all gasps and whimpers and 'Fuck me harder, Sebastian.' "

Sebastian's voice pitches higher as he mimics gasps and moans. Blaine's face flushes hot and his hands clench in fists.

"Then of course he had to go and fuck everything up by getting all clingy and shit."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Blaine asks. Kurt is definitely not clingy. His mind flashes back to a text message from a few weeks ago when Kurt apologized for being a clingy drunk, but nothing could be further from the truth. If anything, Kurt goes out of his way not to touch people. Blaine's brain cannot reconcile his version of Kurt with what Sebastian is saying.

"I. Fucked. Hummel. And he loved it. But of course he couldn't just be happy with epic sex. He wanted a fucking boyfriend." Sebastian's lips curl up as if he's just said the most vulgar word in the English language.

"So you just fucked him and then told him to get lost," Blaine says through clenched teeth. His eyes are burning, but he'll be damned if he's going to cry in front of this asshole.

"Well I sure as hell wasn't going to play house with him," Sebastian says, laughing. "He was hot, and his attitude made him a challenge. I had no idea he'd turn out to be so good in bed. I thought we had a good thing going. We'd go out dancing, get drunk, come back here and fuck. When he told that man-child David we were dating, I had to set the record straight."

"How long did that go on?" Blaine asks. He needs to know. Something tells him this one detail might be important.

"A few weeks maybe," Sebastian says with a shrug. "I don't know. It was almost a year ago now. Does it matter?"

Blaine's heartbeat quickens as he considers this new information. Kurt doesn't date because of Sebastian; it all makes sense now.

"No," he says truthfully, because it doesn't matter — not like he thought it would.

"Look, I'm sorry," Sebastian says, his face softening. He brings a hand up to Blaine's shoulder and strokes his thumb slowly over the fabric of Blaine's shirt. The gesture isn't threatening, but Blaine still tenses. Sebastian either doesn't notice or chooses to ignore it. "I get kind of pushy when I've been drinking. We don't have to do anything if you don't want to."

Blaine's face feels numb. He's completely sober now and just wants to get the hell out of Sebastian's apartment.

"I think I'm just going to go," he says. His voice sounds strained and deeper than usual.

"You want me to call you a cab?"

"No thanks," Blaine says, refusing to make eye contact. "I think I'm going to walk."

When he closes the door behind him, he sags to the floor in the hallway, feeling like his legs are going to give out.

* * *

The next morning Blaine gets up early. He showers and shaves, puts on his favorite oxford and his best-fitting jeans. He heads to the deli on the corner that he knows has the best homemade chicken soup. He buys a quart of it, along with a French baguette with the most delicious chewy crust.

He stops at a florist down the block from the deli and buys a bouquet of circus roses — the drama of the bright yellow with deep crimson at the edges seems perfect for the occasion.

He walks into a small, two-story building and knocks on the door of the first apartment. He hears a shuffling inside and a voice calls out, "Just a minute!"

While he waits, Blaine hums to himself, Stevie Wonder's "Signed, Sealed, Delivered" stuck in his head since his shower that morning. The door is wrenched open almost violently, a pretty girl with dark brown hair and piercing eyes glares at Blaine. She must be one of Kurt's roommates.

"Can I help you?" she says.

"I'm looking for Kurt," Blaine replies, the sentence coming out more like a question than a definitive statement.

"Hey Black Plague, you've got a visitor!" she yells, angling her face into the apartment.

"Who is it?" Kurt calls from somewhere inside. His voice sounds muffled and hoarse.

"I don't know, some dork with roses. Get off your ass and find out for yourself. I'm late for work!"

"Thanks a lot, Satan."

"God, he's a fucking drama queen," the woman says. "Just go on in. I'm sure he'll be out in a minute. If not, his room's the first door on the left."

She steps back to let Blaine past her, then pulls the door shut and she's gone. Blaine looks around and takes in the small living room. It's sparsely decorated with mismatched furniture, but still manages to feel like a home. There are photos of Kurt with various groups of girls, including the woman who answered the door, in frames on a small bookshelf, next to a comfy looking chair and an antique lamp in the corner. The sofa looks like it's had more than one owner, but it's clean and fits well with the décor.

He's just admiring a large wall clock that looks like an overgrown stopwatch when he hears a muffled cough from behind him. He turns just as Kurt recognizes him and his eyes go wide.

"Blaine!"

"Hi, Kurt," he says with a smile.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, tugging his hoodie closer to his body.

"I heard you were sick. Thought you could use some soup." He holds up the bag from the deli.

Kurt's eyes dart to the bag and then the flowers in Blaine's other hand.

"Also for you," Blaine says, holding them out for Kurt to take. "My nana always liked fresh flowers when she was sick. She said the bright colors took the fever away."

When Kurt steps forward to take the bouquet from Blaine, he notices for the first time how puffy and red Kurt's eyes are. His skin has lost its usual pink undertones, his thick chestnut hair wild and sticking out in all directions. It's adorable.

"How are you feeling?" Blaine asks, following Kurt into the small, bright kitchen.

"Like death," Kurt says. "My fever broke last night, though. So I should be back at work soon."

Blaine sets the soup down on the counter.

"Kurt, why don't you sit down, and I'll put those in some water." Blaine pulls out a chair at their island.

To his credit, Kurt doesn't argue and he takes a seat. He also folds his arms on the counter and drops his head to rest on them. Blaine finds a bowl in one of the cupboards and pours some soup for Kurt, searching through drawers until he finds a spoon.

"Here, eat this," he says, nudging it toward Kurt's elbow.

Kurt lifts his head and groans. "God, that smells amazing," he says. "I feel like I haven't eaten in days."

Blaine sees a vase on top of the refrigerator and fills it with water, unwrapping the roses and placing them in it.

"There, doesn't that look festive?" His smile feels brighter than the occasion calls for, and he looks expectantly at Kurt, hoping for a reprieve.

"Blaine, why are you here?" Kurt asks, spoon halfway to his mouth.

Blaine's smile dims a little as he considers his reasons.

"Because you were right."

"About?"

"Sebastian. He's a jerk."

"That's an understatement," Kurt says, rolling his eyes.

"And I wanted to be friends again," Blaine says.

"We're friends," Kurt insists.

"You wouldn't return my calls."

"I'm sick."

"Or texts."

"Fine," Kurt says, pouting a little, as if conceding is the last thing he wants to do. "I was mad. But I'm not now… promise."

Blaine searches Kurt's face for a moment, deciding the slightly pinched, angry look is a result of his illness and not insincerity. Kurt's blue-green eyes are shining as he holds Blaine's gaze.

They stay like that for a moment, just smiling at each other, both of them reveling in the ease of simply being together. Much like riding a bike or making boxed macaroni and cheese, it's just something they do, like it's something they've always done. No deep thought or analysis required. And it just feels right.

Kurt blinks slowly and yawns, pulling Blaine out of the moment.

"You look tired," Blaine says. "Do you need to lie down?"

Kurt shakes his head and swallows a mouthful of soup.

"No, I've been doing nothing but sleeping for days," he says. "Can you stay for a bit? Maybe we could watch a movie or something?"

"Sure. I'd like that."

Blaine doesn't really pay attention to the movie, some drama about young lovers being separated, and the heroine dies of cancer before her lover can tell her how he feels. It's depressing actually, but Kurt is beautiful as he quietly lets the tears spill, sniffling and coughing periodically from his cold. Blaine steals glances, memorizing the pattern of the faint stubble along Kurt's neck and jaw, the way he licks and bites his bottom lip absently. Kurt's lashes are damp and he blinks slowly and dabs at his eyes.

"It's just so sad, you know," Kurt says, sniffling as the credits roll. "She thought he ran off with her best friend, but he got in that car accident, and then when he came back she was already sick. But she didn't want to tell him she was dying, and he thought she didn't love him. And, god, when she died, he found those letters."

Blaine tries to remember the plot of the movie; he remembers crying and yelling mostly… and Kurt. He laughs at something and Blaine glances over at him again. His eyes gleaming and his cheeks flushing pink.

"You probably think I'm such a silly romantic," he says.

"It's not silly."

Blaine looks at Kurt, _really_ looks at him, rumpled and unshowered, sniffling and crying and, dressed in sweat pants and an old t-shirt and hoodie, and realizes he's fallen in love. In spite of all the insistence at being friends and the ten-year age difference, he's completely gone. Kurt is what he wants.

"Kurt…" Blaine inhales around the word; it comes out barely a sound, choked and emotional.

"My dad has cancer," Kurt says suddenly.

Blaine blinks at him, unsure if he's heard him correctly.

"Your d– I'm sorry… cancer?"

"Prostate cancer. He had surgery last month," Kurt says. "He's fine now, mostly. Gets tired easily. But he had a heart attack a couple years ago, and sometimes I'm just scared that something is going to happen and he won't be there."

"Does he still live in Ohio?"

"Yeah, with my stepmom, Carole," he says. A smile quirks the corners of his mouth when he mentions her. It's obvious he cares about his family a great deal.

"When was the last time you went home?"

"Um, last Christmas, I think. It's been a while."

"Maybe you need to plan a trip," Blaine suggests. Just because he's not close with his parents, doesn't mean he doesn't understand the concept. He finds himself feeling a little jealous of Kurt and immediately chastises himself. Kurt's dad is sick.

"I don't even know why I'm telling you all this," Kurt says. "I don't... I don't talk about this stuff often."

"Why not?"

"I just… don't," he says with a shrug. "No one to tell."

For a brief second, Blaine considers confessing his feelings to Kurt, but he senses now isn't the time. He realizes that their friendship is more important to him than his own feelings, but he still wants Kurt to know that he cares. Blaine reaches out and rests his hand on Kurt's tense back, rubbing loose circles as he feels the muscles begin to relax. No, now is not the time to unload his feelings for Kurt or his guilt for going out with Sebastian.

"Well, now you have me," Blaine says, smiling, hoping Kurt understands how much he means it.


	8. Chapter 8

"So I heard you went on a date with Sebastian," Tina says.

She's applying makeup to Adamo's neck and trying not to stare at where her assistant is applying sunless tanner to Mike's bared abs. If the little glances she's shooting his way every five seconds are any indication, she's losing that battle pretty epically.

"Um, sort of," Blaine says, flicking mindlessly through a tray of makeup brushes. He likes Tina; she's easy to talk to and she listens without offering up unsolicited advice. It's refreshing after dealing with Yvonne's incessant meddling. And Adamo, of course, barely understands a word they're saying.

"Sort of? Either it was a date or it wasn't." She shoots another glance in Mike's direction.

"Well, it was a date at first, but by the end of the night, I was pretty sure I didn't want it to be."

"Oh." She taps Adamo on the left shoulder and asks, "Can you turn to the left for me, sweetie?" He smiles at her, nodding blankly but not moving. "God, if this one knew five words of English, this would make my job so much easier." She nudges him into the position she wants. "At least he's stopped quoting _The Princess Bride_ and _Casablanca_ at me."

Blaine looks up questioningly.

"Earlier, every time I'd ask him a question he'd respond with 'as you wish' or 'here's looking at you, kid.' I thought I was going to pee my pants laughing."

Blaine looks at Adamo; he's smiling at Tina, completely enthralled, taking in every movement she makes and word she speaks. Tina is practically oblivious to his presence until he says "as you wish" again.

"See?" Tina giggles and Blaine can't help but join her.

"I think someone has a crush," he says.

"You're one to talk," Tina says, her eyes flitting over to Mike again. "Sebastian looks at you like he hasn't eaten a full meal in days and you're prime rib."

"Nice," Blaine says. "Compare me to a piece of meat."

"You know what I mean," she says, maneuvering around Adamo's long legs to get to his left side. His eyes follow her the whole time.

"Yeah, and actually it's a pretty accurate assessment of the situation," he says. "But it was just the one date, so if you don't mind, I'd rather it didn't get around."

"Well you probably should tell Sebastian that," she says.

Blaine stands up straighter, his full attention on Tina now as he asks, "What do you mean?"

"He's been bragging to anyone who will listen that you and he had a 'moment.'" The air quotes make it evident what he's been implying to their coworkers. Blaine is furious. He can't believe Sebastian would do that.

"God, that guy is infuriating," Blaine says. "Wait… everyone?"

"Just about," she says, glancing up at Blaine. "Why?"

"Jesus, Tina, I don't need the whole crew thinking I slept with him."

"So you didn't? She looks genuinely shocked.

"Of _course_ not." He can't believe Tina would think that.

"Sorry," she says, her look of concern and remorse unmistakable. "I just thought... Well, sometimes things happen, Blaine. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"_Nothing_ happened."

Blaine returns his attention to the brushes, flicking through them more forcefully than he had before.

"Why not?" she asks, raising her eyebrows dramatically at Blaine's reaction. "He's cute."

Blaine rolls his eyes. "As if that's the only requirement for having sex."

"What about Kurt?" she asks quietly enough that only Blaine can hear.

"What _about_ Kurt?"

He's not sure if Tina is asking about his relationship with Kurt or if she knows about his shameful past with Sebastian, but he doesn't get a chance to ask because Kurt walks in at that very moment.

"Yeah, what about me?"

Blaine's head whips around at the sound of Kurt's voice, his heart racing. He wants to crawl under the floorboards and hide.

"Kurt!" he says, a little too exuberantly. After his visit to Kurt's apartment, it hadn't even occurred to Blaine to tell Kurt he went out with Sebastian because it's not happening again. It was a one-time thing, but faced with the prospect, he's not sure if that's the right choice. He's not sure there is a right choice.

"Oh, we were just talking about the shoot," Tina says, barely looking up from her work on Adamo. "Blaine here–"

"Needs to go help Zach get set up," Blaine interrupts, grateful for the chance to escape that conversation. "See you out there, Kurt."

As Blaine leaves, he hears Tina artfully change the subject. He knew there was a reason he liked working with her.

"So, Kurt," she says. "I heard you booked another campaign, big client too."

"Maybe," he says. "I may not take it."

Kurt's voice fades as Blaine turns back to the open area of the loft. He is so busy straining to hear Tina and Kurt's conversation that he doesn't notice Sebastian heading his way until he's right on top of him.

"Hey, sexy," Sebastian says, running a hand up Blaine's arm.

Blaine shrugs it off, gritting his teeth as he asks, "What are you telling everyone about our date?"

"I didn't tell _everyone_," Sebastian says. "I only mentioned it to Zach. He asked me about my weekend."

"And you felt the need to imply that something happened between us?"

"Well, it kind of did." He leans in and waggles his eyebrows at Blaine, trying to look flirtatious; it just looks ridiculous to Blaine, and he jabs a finger into Sebastian's chest.

"No, it kind of didn't, and I'd appreciate if you'd stop running your mouth about my personal life to my crew."

"Jesus," he says, backing away. "Sorry, Blaine. I was just joking around a little. You don't have to be so touchy. But maybe you should talk to _your_ crew about not gossiping behind your back." He backs away from Blaine before heading into the back room for hair and makeup.

Blaine looks over Sebastian's shoulder into the room and sees Kurt staring at him, mouth agape. His eyes flit from Blaine to Sebastian and his eyes cloud over before his expression is completely closed off. Kurt has built up the wall between himself and Blaine all over again.

Blaine can't face it. He storms out of the room and tries to focus on his work. Fury propels him through the day and leaves him feeling like he's in a fog. It's like he's back to square one with the entire crew, not knowing what to say to anyone, especially Kurt. He's not really directing the models or helping Zach, but he can't help it; everything feels off. Only Sebastian remains unchanged, dropping innuendo and flirting blatantly.

The day gets stranger still when Kurt starts his own flirting. With Adamo. At first, Blaine isn't sure if it's actually happening or if he's imagining it, because it starts out pretty subtle. Kurt laughs at something Adamo says, a little too loudly considering Adamo barely speaks English. Later, he puts a hand on Adamo's knee when Tina touches up his makeup. He fails to notice the smitten look Adamo is shooting in Tina's direction.

"Adamo," Kurt says, running a hand along his arm after Tina walks away. "You should get me the number for your trainer."

Blaine rolls his eyes. This is getting ridiculous. Kurt's obviously trying to make a point to Sebastian, who's only standing two feet away, but Blaine knows he's not interested in Kurt, and he doesn't want to see him get hurt.

Despite his best efforts to get Kurt's attention, Blaine's only chance to talk to him is during their lunch break. As usual, most of the crew and the models are sitting around chatting and enjoying a few moments off their feet. Kurt is by himself, eyes glued to his phone. He doesn't even look up when Blaine approaches.

"Kurt, why are you doing this?"

"I have to get back to the agency about my next job," he says. "I didn't realize it was a crime to have lunch alone."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," Blaine half whispers through gritted teeth.

Kurt's mouth curls up into a sneer, his jaw set. "I'm afraid you're going to have to spell it out for me," he says. "Us dumb models aren't really that quick, you know."

Blaine feels his frustration fading once he realizes he's obviously hit a nerve. He doesn't want to pick a fight with Kurt. He just wants to protect his friend from Sebastian. "Kurt, come on. You know I don't think that, and besides, I'm talking about the over-the-top flirting with Adamo."

"What do you care?"

"Well, he's straight for one," Blaine says. "And two, it's like you're _hate_ flirting. Will you just tell me what's wrong?"

Kurt looks down at his hands, threading his fingers together and fidgeting. His furious expression from earlier begins to fade, but he doesn't look up.

When he doesn't answer, Blaine softens his tone and leans down into Kurt's eye line. "Is it because of Sebastian?"

Kurt looks up, his eyes flashing with what looks like shock and humiliation. His eyes start to well up, and Blaine sees his upper lip quiver slightly. Maybe he'd underestimated Kurt's feelings for Sebastian. He's clearly still hung up on the guy. Blaine needs to make this easier on him, let Kurt know that he knows.

"Sebastian doesn't mean anything to me," he says, reaching out to touch Kurt's shoulder. "And even if I were interested in him, I wouldn't go after someone a friend had feelings for."

Kurt jerks away. "Oh my god… _really_?"

"What?" Blaine has no idea what he's said. Kurt has to know how obvious his feelings are.

"I'm not interested in Sebastian!" he shouts. A few heads turn in their direction, and Kurt blushes. He grabs Blaine by the arm and drags him into the hair and makeup room.

"Kurt, I don't understand," Blaine says once Kurt has shut the door behind them. "If this isn't about Sebastian, what's going on?"

Kurt shuffles his feet, and looks at a spot over Blaine's head, fighting back tears.

"I _know_," he says.

"Know what?" Blaine asks. He has no idea what Kurt is talking about and he really wishes Kurt would just spit it out because he's starting to get a headache.

"I know that you went on a date with Sebastian."

"Oh."

"Yeah… oh," Kurt says, looking defeated. "_God_, I feel so stupid. He was going on and on about how you went back to his place and that he can't wait to take you out again and how great your ass is…"

"He said all that?"

Kurt rolls his eyes as he finally makes eye contact with Blaine. There's something Blaine's not understanding about this, but he can't quite read between the lines. He decides honesty is the best policy at this point.

"Kurt, I'm really not interested in him. We went on one date. That's all. I swear."

"Why couldn't you just tell me that then?! I had to hear about it from fucking Sebastian of all people! Talking about you like you were some sort of prize he'd won!"

"I think I can handle a little gossip," Blaine says, trying to reassure Kurt.

"But it's _Sebastian_," Kurt says, as if that explains everything.

"Look, I didn't know about your past with him until the other night," he says. "I just wanted to go out and have a good time."

"Well, Sebastian has no problem showing anyone a good time," Kurt scoffs.

"I know he's a prick, but give the guy a break," Blaine says. "I don't think he knows how to have a boyfriend."

"Well that's abundantly clear," he scoffs. "So what, you thought you'd just get an easy fuck out of him and go back to being my friend?"

"Jesus, Kurt, I didn't fuck him. I was lonely; he asked me to dinner, and I said yes. What was I supposed to do? I've been so busy trying to be your friend that I've blown off all my other friends, and I spent my fucking birthday alone!"

"How is that my fault?" Kurt shrieks.

"You could have at least texted me!"

Kurt reels back, and Blaine instantly regrets his words. There's no way Kurt knew Blaine was alone on his birthday, and it's not his job to make sure Blaine stays entertained.

"I didn't even know it was your birthday!" he says. "And besides…"

"Besides what?"

Kurt opens his mouth as if he's got something else to say, but he clamps it shut just as quickly. He throws his head back in exasperation.

Kurt sighs. "You wouldn't understand."

"Then tell me." Blaine doesn't even try to conceal the pleading tone in his voice. When he makes eye contact with Kurt, he smiles, willing Kurt to go on. He hates to see him in such pain. There's obviously something else going on; he just wishes he knew what it was. "I'm your friend, remember?" he says after a moment. Kurt's face falls.

"Just forget it," Kurt says, waving him off. "Our lunch break is almost over. Let's get back to work."

"Hey," Blaine says, grabbing his arm gently. "I'm the art director… I think everyone will understand. Now talk to me."

"You're right," Kurt says, jerking his chin up. "_You're_ the art director." He tugs his arm out of Blaine's tentative grip and wheels around on him. "You know, you wouldn't even have this stupid job if it wasn't for me!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Blaine knows his success with Kurt at the first shoot was largely thanks to Kurt's ability to know his angles, but he'd directed that shoot and edited the photos. It's not like Kurt did all the work.

"Nothing. It means nothing," Kurt says, sounding calmer now. "I hope you enjoy dating Sebastian." He gives Blaine a forced smile, and then he's gone.

"But I'm not dating Sebastian," Blaine says to the empty room.

He stands there for a few moments, wondering what vital piece of information he's missed. There's something he's not seeing because Kurt's behavior doesn't match his words, and Blaine is more confused than ever.

Not only that, he thought they'd made some significant strides at Kurt's apartment the other day, but now Blaine's not so sure. Kurt had confided in him about his father, and Blaine had reassured him that he cared about him.

He'd kept his true feelings well hidden so that he could keep his burgeoning friendship with Kurt in tact, and he'd failed at every turn. Kurt's feeling betrayed and who can blame him? Blaine went out with a guy who hurt him and whom he still has feelings for. Blaine's certain of that fact, no matter what Kurt says.

He's just going to have to learn to live with the fact that he's falling in love with someone who's still in love with someone else.

Sebastian.

Why does it have to be Sebastian of all people? Even though Blaine thinks that, deep down, Sebastian's probably not as bad as everyone suspects, he knows that Sebastian has broken Kurt's heart once already, and now Blaine has gone and wounded his pride. Some friend.

Blaine takes a few deep breaths to calm his overwrought nerves, and opens the door to the loft. He hears a shrill voice call out, "Where in god's name is the fucking art director?"

He'd know that voice anywhere. It's Jan West. What is the client doing on set? He ducks behind a support beam and grabs his phone to call Lorelei.

"Hello, Ms. West, I'm Kurt Hummel." Blaine can just barely make out Kurt's voice from where he's standing, okay hiding. He leans forward to get a better look without stepping fully into the room.

"You're Hummel?" she says, a perfectly arched eyebrow raised in question.

"Yes."

"You're too short," she says curtly, dismissing him with a single wave. "Would someone please tell me where the fucking art director is?"


	9. Chapter 9

Jan West towers over Blaine in her three-inch heels — conservative in the fashion world, but at nearly six-feet-tall, she doesn't need the boost — making quite a scene dressed in head-to-toe black, her silver-white hair pinned back in a tight chignon. She reminds Blaine of his paternal grandmother, all prickles and ice, and absolutely no warmth.

Grandmother Anderson came from old money and made it clear she'd never approved of her son's decision to marry someone outside of their pretentious inner circle of New England WASPs. She seemed to direct a lot of her disdain for Blaine's mother at Blaine, perhaps because he'd been unfortunate enough not to inherit the Anderson height or their stunning blue eyes. His brother Cooper had gotten both; Blaine favored his mother.

He takes a deep breath and pockets his phone; Lorelei will have to wait. If he's already lost this account, he'd rather get a chance to clear out his desk and say goodbye to Yvonne before Lorelei fires him.

Blaine puts on his best smile and squares his shoulders, falling back on his prep school upbringing and all those years of his mother telling him to sit up straight, as he approaches his client. "Ms. West, Lorelei didn't tell me you'd be coming by today," Blaine says, holding out a hand for her to take. "What a pleasant surprise."

Jan West's own blue eyes pierce through Blaine like he's made of straw, a sad sack of brainless oaf, which Blaine thinks might be pretty accurate at this point. He can't even manage to keep from hurting his best friend for more than five minutes at a time.

Standing next to a force of nature like Jan West, Blaine has never felt quite so small or childlike in his life. A former model herself, she towers over nearly everyone in the loft, except for Sebastian and Adamo. How had Kurt just walked up to her like that? Blaine never would have taken the initiative like Kurt had if Jan hadn't sought him out first. Well, screamed for him, more like it.

Blaine looks up expectantly, hand still extended.

"That's because she doesn't know I'm here," Jan says, looking down her nose at Blaine as if she refuses to lower her head, or herself, to his level. "And you are?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," he says, pulling his hand back abruptly when he realizes she's not going to take it. "Blaine Anderson. I'm the art director for your holiday campaign."

She sniffs.

"_This_ model is too short," she says waving a hand at Kurt. She doesn't even look at him. "We need to reshoot."

Kurt is shooting daggers at Jan with his eyes; the similarity between the two when they're judging someone is uncanny. Blaine wonders if Kurt realizes it or if it's one of those situations where you hate someone because subconsciously they remind you of the things you hate most about yourself.

Jan strides over to the rack of clothes that Ben is working from and starts rearranging his styling. Blaine sees him tense up as she destroys hours of work in a matter of seconds.

"Don't you think that's a little rash?" Blaine asks, approaching her cautiously. He's not quite sure if he means reshooting or restyling, maybe both.

Jan turns and looks at him, hand frozen in mid air with a silk tie between her bony fingers. She's looking at Blaine as if he's just suggested she wear off-the-rack.

"I was clear about the height requirements for my models, was I not?" she asks.

"You definitely were," Blaine says, "but I think if you–"

"So my instructions were clear, but you chose to ignore them?"

"Not at all Ms. West, but I thought you might like to see what we've been shooting," he says. "I think you'll agree that Kurt is exactly the right model for the One West line."

"You think I don't know my own style, Zane?"

Blaine resists the urge to correct her as he tries to remain diplomatic. "I just think if you saw what we've been working on, you'd see that we're going for something edgier, something that I think will wipe the floor with the competition. You'll be the name on everyone's lips next season."

She narrows her eyes at him and says, "You have that much confidence in your work, do you?"

Blaine nods. "I do."

"That kind of arrogance will either get you promoted or fired," she says.

The two stare at each other for a moment, Blaine worrying that his fate will be the latter, when she says, "Okay, wow me."

Blaine claps his hands together sharply and glances around frantically trying to remember where he'd left his laptop. He spots it next to Zach's camera bag and opens it up, their last 100 or so frames still on the screen. He pulls up the group shots, thinking he stands his best chance if he can show how they managed to mask Kurt's height next to the much-taller models.

"So what we're going for here is this twist on the urban chic thing–"

"Isn't that kind of overdone?" she asks.

"Exactly," Blaine says. "Which means that all the other designers will be going in a completely opposite direction. So we thought, let's take urban chic and turn it on its ear. Why not contrast the edginess of your line against a rural backdrop and then intersperse that with this more whimsical, but slightly stark style?" He clicks through a few shots from the shot at the lake and then shows her some of the stuff they've shot today. "See how the two styles play off each other and the garments just pop?"

He doesn't mention the models, even though they were chosen for their eclectic looks too. The deep brown of David's skin next to Kurt's fair complexion provides a sharp contrast for the lake shots, while Sebastian's lanky, muscular build and Mike's chiseled physique set off the sharp angles of Kurt's thinner frame. David's body type is different still, and in each shot there's something to draw the eyes in. Blaine hadn't realized before what great work they were really doing. He's proud of it.

He looks up at Jan expectantly.

"This one is still too short." She points to Sebastian, though. Blaine bites his lip to keep from correcting her. He looks over at where Kurt and the other models are now standing, fascinated by the scene unfolding before them.

"It's all part of the concept," Blaine says, his confidence waning. "I promise you, it will all come together and you're going to love it."

"And if I don't?" she asks, skeptical.

"Then Price will reshoot the entire campaign for free." He's taking a big risk, but there's no way he's backing off from this idea now. Blaine believes in it. It's strong, and Kurt is the perfect model for this line – the embodiment of urban chic with a twist of whimsy. Not to mention, the group shots are some of the best work he's ever seen from Zach and it's a fresh concept.

"You've got balls, kid," she says, a tight, clipped smile on her face for the first time since her arrival.

Blaine lights up. "I promise you," he says. "This campaign will blow your mind."

"It had better," she says, standing up and flipping her scarf over her shoulder. "Don't tell Lorelei I came by. She'll get all clingy and start calling me every day to see if I'm happy. I can't stand that."

"No problem," Blaine says.

She nods curtly at him, slipping her large Dior sunglasses over her nose. She makes a noncommittal "mmm" sound, and then, almost as quickly as she came, she's gone.

Her exit reminds Blaine of a movie character – a ridiculous cross between Miranda Priestly and the Dowager Countess of Grantham. He bites back his laughter as he turns to face his astonished crew.

Ben looks like he's about ready to cry, taking in the mess Jan made of the clothing racks; Zach is grinning at Blaine excitedly. The models are still standing nearby, slack-jawed and confused, especially Adamo. All except Kurt, whose expression is unreadable.

Blaine claps his hands to get their attention. "Alright people, let's get to work."

* * *

Blaine takes a seat in the coffee shop he's come to think of as his and Kurt's, even though they haven't met here in weeks. He taps his foot nervously as he waits for Kurt to arrive; he's 20 minutes late already, and Blaine's starting to think he's backed out.

Kurt had said he wanted to meet up for coffee and talk about things, but he'd been pretty vague when Blaine had pressed for more info, insisting that Blaine should just meet him at their usual place at the usual time. It's starting to feel a bit like a drug deal.

Blaine is nursing his second cup of coffee, never more thankful that he doesn't drink espresso because he's already jittery as his mind works overtime trying to figure out what Kurt wants to talk about. Unable to piece together a coherent thought on the matter, he swirls the dregs of his coffee, noting a few grounds in the bottom of the cup mixed with some undissolved sugar crystals. This place doesn't even have particularly good coffee, but he's contemplating a third cup anyway. Just as he glances toward the line at the counter, Kurt walks in.

No, not walks… glides. Drifts? Floats? None of the words do justice to the way Kurt looks stepping through the door of the coffee shop. In all the excitement at work, Blaine had forgotten how utterly magnificent Kurt is. Transfixed on the sight before him — a vision in leather, cotton and silk — Blaine feels his stomach bottom out, like going over the first drop on a roller coaster. Similarly, there's no going back from this point, he realizes suddenly. He's going over that hill now whether he wants to or not. The question is, how big is the drop and is Kurt up for the ride too? The idea makes him feel shaky and weak, and also a little bit thrilled at the prospect.

"Hi," Kurt says, sounding out of breath and pretty much perfect. "Sorry I'm late. I almost got tackled by one of those bike messengers on my way over here and stumbled into some lady who couldn't be bothered to put a lid on her latte. So I had to rush home and change. I'm pretty sure the vest I was wearing is ruined. Thank god it was from a sample sale."

"It's okay," Blaine says, already feeling more at ease in the wake of Kurt's cute, nervous rambling. "I got caught up on emails while I was waiting." He presents his phone as evidence of his lie, wiggling it around as if that might make it true. He had intended to check his email, but then he got nervous and spent most of the time watching the clock and fidgeting instead.

Kurt smiles at him and says, "Good… then I don't feel as bad. Did you need a refill? I'm going to go grab a mocha."

Blaine nods and hands Kurt his cup. "Thanks."

"Still stuck on that horrible drip coffee, I see."

"I like the drip coffee."

"Old man."

Blaine shrugs. "I like what I like."

There's easy affection in their banter; it calms Blaine's nerves even further, and he's grateful. Perhaps Kurt is ready to move on from their argument after all.

However, when Kurt returns with their coffee, his mood is undoubtedly somber, like he's had time to think about what he wants to say, and it's not good. Blaine doesn't like the look on his face. He braces himself for the impact of Kurt's words.

"I wanted to thank you for defending me to Jan West," Kurt says. "You didn't have to do that… especially after I yelled at you."

Blaine exhales in a rush of breath, relieved that Kurt isn't angry.

"It's my job," Blaine says, shrugging it off like that's the only reason he did it.

"It's your job to please the client," Kurt corrects. He purses his lips and looks thoughtful for a moment. "Did you mean it?"

"That you're the right look for the campaign? Yeah, I meant it. You're the best model we have on One West. Hands down."

Kurt smiles, but he looks like he doesn't quite believe Blaine. "Well, I can't help but pull focus." He laughs.

Blaine reaches across the table and puts his hand over Kurt's. The sudden contact clearly startles Kurt and he tries to pull back, but Blaine stops him.

"No, it's more than that, Kurt. You're so talented, and I think this job could be the jumping off point for your career. I bet everyone is talking about you come December."

Blaine moves his hand away and leans back in his seat, watching Kurt, something unreadable in his features.

"Maybe." Kurt takes a drink of his coffee and looks out the window for a moment, his eyes following a woman in a billowing green sundress. When she passes out of view, he turns back to Blaine. "Do you really think I'm talented?"

"Definitely."

"Thanks," he says softly, his hands toying with his cup again. He suddenly straightens up. "And it's none of my business if you date Sebastian."

"I'm not _dating_ Sebastian."

"Still–"

"I'm not," Blaine says, trying to reassure him with his eyes. "It was one date, and I'm not interested."

Kurt leans toward Blaine, holding out his hand tentatively. Blaine looks down at Kurt's outstretched hand, his slightly curved palm, long and slender fingers, perfectly manicured nails, and then back up at Kurt questioningly. The warm smile on Kurt's face urges him on, so he takes Kurt's hand and squeezes. It's a friendly gesture, Blaine thinks, nothing more, but he can't help but consider that Kurt has somehow let him in, and it feels really, really good.

"Okay," Kurt says. "I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions."

Kurt squeezes back and then lets go, turning to look out the window again. Blaine takes the opportunity to rest his hand in his lap, flexing his fingers and savoring the lingering warmth from Kurt's touch. He looks down at his palm, no different than before, but the sensation lingers, a feeling of belonging and acceptance. Safe. It feels like coming home, to a place he knows he can just… _be_.

So for a moment, he lets himself, reveling in the comfort of Kurt's presence and the background noise of the café, until the contrasting silence reminds him of his family and the uncomfortable quiet of the dinner table. He wonders what Kurt's family meals were like. Were they cold, formal affairs like at the Anderson home? Or warm, family moments that you want to savor? Probably the latter if Kurt's concern for his father's health is any clue.

"So, how's your dad?" Blaine asks. Maybe he's steering the conversation a bit, but he doesn't want to reveal too much. He can't scare Kurt off when everything still feels so new, like it's precariously resting on the head of a pin and could tip over and be lost at any moment.

"Better," Kurt says. "My stepbrother Finn says he'll keep an eye on him for me, go home on weekends more often. He's a sophomore at Ohio State, you know."

"Good. I'm glad to hear you've got someone you can trust."

"I do," Kurt says, affection in his eyes. He must really be close to his brother. Kurt shakes his head a little, just a fraction, but it looks like he's trying to shake off a stray thought. "I talked to my dad yesterday, actually. He wants to come visit. Says he wants to meet all my 'fancy New York friends.' " Kurt uses the air quotes and laughs. His lips curve into a smaller smile. It feels private, intimate. "I told him about you."

Blaine swallows his coffee abruptly and it catches in his throat. "What?" he sputters around a cough.

"Yeah, I told him I'd made friends with the art director." Kurt pauses and smiles impishly at Blaine. "And then he told me not to piss where I eat." Kurt laughs. "He thought we were dating. Can you believe it?"

Blaine shakes his head, eyes wide as he tries to look appropriately shocked, but in reality, he's not sure what to say or how to react.

"But I told him we're just friends," Kurt says. His voice pitches up on the end of the sentence, like he's asking Blaine for clarification, like he's not quite sure they are anymore.

"Of course we're friends." Blaine chuckles softly. "I just can't believe he jumped from 'hey I made friends with my art director' to 'oh, they must be fucking.'"

Kurt laughs, all traces of worry gone from his face.

"Well, to be fair, my dad's only examples for gay men are me and that one time we watched _Brokeback Mountain_ together."

"_God_, that must have been awkward."

"You have no idea."

"Still, I can't imagine my dad even agreeing to watch that movie, let alone watching it _with_ me," Blaine says. "You're lucky, Kurt."

"I am," Kurt says. "My dad's great."

"I hope I get to meet him sometime."

Kurt's eyes go wide and he tilts his head to the side. Blaine panics. Did he say the wrong thing? He tries to recover. "I just meant–"

"Blaine, it's okay," Kurt says, reaching out and patting Blaine's hand. "You just shocked me that's all. But it's sweet that you'd want to meet my dad. I'm sure he'd love to meet you… I- I mean… well, he did say he wanted to meet my friends. So I'm sure–"

"Kurt…" Blaine begins. Kurt pauses mid sip and raises an eyebrow. Blaine feels that weird swoopy feeling in his gut like he did the first time Kurt looked at him like that. He exhales a shuddering breath. "I–"

"I think I love you," Kurt says.

"What?" Blaine's jaw drops open.

Kurt points up nonchalantly, taking a sip from his mocha. "The song," he says. " 'I Think I Love You.' The Partridge Family? I can't believe they're playing this."

"Oh yeah…right," Blaine says as his heart races in his chest, adrenalin coursing through his veins. "The Partridge Family."

The song is just audible over the din of the coffee shop, and Blaine strains to hear it. When he picks up the words, he stifles the urge to sing along: "So what am I so afraid of?"


	10. Chapter 10

As the holiday campaign starts to wrap up, and Price is gearing up to plan out One West's spring campaign, Blaine finds himself becoming friends with Sebastian. Well, as much as one can be friends with Sebastian Smythe. Mostly they just exchange the stray text and talk about life under the thumb of old money. Blaine got out; Sebastian's still trying.

Sebastian is also still trying to get Blaine to go out with him, although, with less intensity than before. Blaine politely declines his invitations, but he doesn't discourage the interaction. Maybe he feels a little guilty after being so nasty to him. Or maybe he just likes the attention. Blaine hasn't really decided yet.

"So, I was thinking," Sebastian says. "We should go to that club opening next week. I bet there will be some serious eye candy, and you and I could make quite a team."

Blaine is tying Sebastian's tie while Ben takes care of an issue with the sizing on Mike's shirt. The dry cleaners had lost a few of the samples — Blaine's pretty sure they ruined them and are lying — but Ben has to make do with what was in stock, and nothing fits.

"Sebastian, I'm not interested. I told you before–"

"I meant as friends," Sebastian says, stilling Blaine's movements by placing a hand on his wrist. "You can be my wing man."

The thing is, Blaine's not really looking to date, or even sleep around. He's interested in Kurt, still slightly in denial on the matter, but becoming increasingly aware of his feelings.

"Come on," Sebastian says. "It's one teensy little club opening. I'll get you home before sunrise." He tucks a hand under Blaine's chin and tilts his head up and pouts at him. "Please, I haven't gotten laid in two weeks."

Blaine laughs. Of course Sebastian would see that as the end of the world.

"Yeah, okay." Blaine says. "I'll go."

* * *

As it turns out, Blaine and Sebastian end up going out with a group — David, Mike, Tina, Adamo, and Kurt, who also brings along his two roommates: Santana, the feisty brunette who answered the door at Kurt's apartment, and Lauren, an indelible force of sarcasm and humor that Blaine instantly likes. For some reason, Tina thinks they should celebrate Blaine's birthday, even though it's been almost a month since it passed.

They get silly — not drunk really, but buzzed and just tipsy enough that it makes their good night even better. Everyone is dancing with everyone in different combinations. Santana finds an athletic-looking redhead and spends at least an hour making out with her on the dance floor.

Tina pulls out a couple of bottles of nail polish and dares Blaine to let her do his nails. He's in such a good mood, he doesn't even flinch as she starts painting his nails a deep purple. They're giggling and ridiculous and Sebastian isn't even really that bad, keeping close to Blaine's side but flirting with any guy who looks remotely interested.

And then there's Kurt. Blaine can sense it; he doesn't even need to see the raised eyebrows or tight lips to know that he's fuming.

"You want another drink, Kurt?" Lauren's out of her seat and leaning over the table to get his attention.

"No, thank you," he says, looking utterly miserable.

"Suit yourself," she says, before turning to Adamo and grabbing his hand. "Come on, stud. Let's get you another drink and see if you can teach me some Italian."

A shocked-looking Adamo just lets himself be dragged along and Blaine hears Tina giggle.

"What?" Blaine says, turning to her.

"I'm just glad she's taken an interest in Adamo. Mike was getting jealous." She looks over where Mike is standing at the bar, talking to David.

Blaine's eyebrows shoot up. Mike and Tina?

"Yeah, according to Adamo, I'm 'why cave men chiseled on walls,' Can you believe it?" She giggles. "Then Mike told him he was going to chisel his face if he didn't shut up and stop hitting on me. I don't think Adamo had a clue what Mike said to him, but I think he got the gist."

"So you and Mike…"

"He asked me to have dinner with him tomorrow," she says with a shrug and a hint of a knowing smile. "I said yes. Have you seen his abs?"

Blaine laughs. "You know I have."

"Well, then you know what I mean," she says, taking a sip of her gin and tonic. "I get all hot and bothered just thinking about it."

"God, doesn't anyone talk about anything other than sex and guys?" Kurt asks. He has his arms crossed over his chest, and a pout that might be funny if his behavior weren't stressing Blaine out.

"Sorry, Kurt," Tina says, looking sheepish. "Would you like to talk about something else?"

"No, I'm fine," he says, getting up. "I think I need another drink after all."

Tina and Blaine watch him make his way to the bar.

"He's in a mood," Tina says.

"Yeah, I think it's because of Sebastian."

"He knew this was Sebastian's idea, though, right?"

"Yeah, I just don't think he likes seeing him all over other guys," Blaine says.

"Sebastian?"

Blaine nods.

"Blaine, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"What's going on with you and Kurt?"

"I told you; we're just friends."

"That may be your intention," she says, "but reality is another matter entirely."

Blaine doesn't get a chance to ask her for clarification, though, because Lauren and Kurt have returned from the bar with Adamo in tow.

"I would like to extend to you an invitation to the pants party," Adamo says, his thick accent stilting his words and making Tina giggle.

Lauren practically cackles laughing. "I've been teaching him new pick up lines," she says.

"So you chose _Anchorman_?" Tina asks, trying not to laugh.

Lauren shrugs and says, "Sixty percent of the time, it works one hundred percent of the time."

They laugh as Adamo looks at them in confusion, his permanently gracious smile plastered to his face. Blaine wonders what that's like, not understanding what's going on around you all the time. It takes balls.

"Will someone come dance with me before David realizes my date has gone home and tries to convince me I like dick?" Santana says, glowing and breathless from dancing.

Sebastian smirks at her. "I'm game. No chance of _me_ trying to convert you."

"Stellar," she says. "Let's go, Neon Trees." She drags Sebastian by the wrist to the dance floor. For all their bickering and name calling, they actually make a good pair. Lauren and Adamo follow, leaving Tina, Blaine, and Kurt to save their table.

"Having fun, Kurt?" Blaine asks. Maybe he's poking the bear a little, but he just wants Kurt to cheer up. He doesn't understand what's wrong.

"Yeah, sure… a blast," he says, sneering over his glass.

"I'm going to see if I can find Mike," Tina says. "You two should talk."

Kurt glares at her, but doesn't say anything. Blaine watches him for a few seconds. Kurt is dressed to the nines, as per usual, but he's definitely not himself.

"Kurt, is everything alright? Is your dad okay? You seem tense."

"Just peachy," he says, forcing a smile. "I'm fine. My dad's fine. Everything's fine, Blaine. Just drop it."

Blaine has his mouth open to say something in response to Kurt, although he's not sure it would do any good, when Sebastian returns alone.

"Do you want to dance, Killer?" he asks, nodding in Blaine's direction. "Santana ditched me for some blonde in a mini skirt."

"Sounds like a typical Friday night for you," Kurt says.

"You know what, Princess, if you're having such a shit time, why are you here? You're making Blaine miserable, and the rest of us are just tolerating you."

"Sebastian," Blaine warns, shaking his head and turning to Kurt. "You're not making me miserable."

"Whatever." Kurt stands up and heads to the bathroom.

When he's out of earshot, Blaine turns to Sebastian. "Could you lay off? Something's up."

"Interesting choice of words," Sebastian says with a smirk. "Now are you going to dance with me, or not?"

"Not right now," Blaine says. His mind is still on Kurt. It's puzzling that he's in such a bad mood; he had been fine earlier at work. Hadn't he? "Maybe later."

As the night wears on, everyone has danced with everyone else in the group. Except Kurt. He's spent the night glaring at them from the table, insisting his new shoes aren't really made for dancing.

Blaine keeps turning down Sebastian's invitations to dance, figuring it's probably best if he keeps this outing on a platonic level, just in case. But he can't help but notice that Sebastian's exuberance is rubbing off on everyone. It's a great night, and Blaine is having fun in spite of Kurt's mood, which has grown progressively more sour with each drink.

Blaine returns from the dance floor with Tina, sweaty and energized. They're still singing along to the last song when the plop down at the table.

"I can't remember the last time I had this much fun," Tina says.

"Me neither," Blaine replies. "God, it's fucking hot in here."

"Feels fine to me," Kurt says.

"That's because you're not dancing," Blaine says. He stands up and grabs Kurt by the wrist. "Come on, dance with me." He smiles and waits for Kurt to get up.

"No thank you," he says through gritted teeth.

"Oh, come on… just one teensy little dance?" Blaine grins at him, trying to pull Kurt out of his mood. He doesn't like seeing him like this, and since he can't figure out what's wrong, he's just going to try to force him to have a good time.

For a second or two, Kurt looks like he might say yes, even leans forward a little, and then Sebastian says, "I'll dance with you." He's standing behind Blaine, his timing excellent as always. "That is if Hummel doesn't mind?"

"Why would I mind?" Kurt says, tugging his arm from Blaine's hand.

"Well, that's settled then," Sebastian says, taking Blaine's hand.

Blaine holds up a finger. "Hang on a second," he says. "Are you sure you don't mind?" he asks Kurt.

"Dance with whoever you want, Blaine. Fuck." Kurt nearly knocks his chair backwards with how forcefully he throws himself back, but he recovers quickly, slouching down against the worn wood and crossing his arms while he glares almost petulantly at his drink. "God, I can't believe I let Ben convince me to be nice to you."

"Ben?"

"Nevermind, just go dance with Sebastian," he says, nearly spitting out the words.

"I don't even like this song," Blaine lies. He doesn't need Kurt to know that he's refusing to dance with Sebastian because of him.

As if on cue, the song changes.

"Perfect," Sebastian says. He smiles at Blaine and looks to Kurt. "I promise I'll bring him back in one piece."

The look Kurt gives him could cut glass, but Sebastian seems unfazed. He tugs on Blaine's hand and leads them to the dance floor.

Blaine reluctantly follows Sebastian through the crowd, trying not to think about the last time they had danced together. He positions himself as far away from Sebastian as he can and still be dancing _with_ him while angling his body so that he can make out Kurt's hunched shoulders where he's now sitting with Tina.

When he catches Blaine looking at him, he turns his eyes back to Tina like he's suddenly very interested in something she's saying.

"He'll be alright for a couple of songs," Sebastian says, leaning into Blaine's ear to be heard over the music.

"Who?" Blaine tries to act like he hadn't just been staring at Kurt. Sebastian's raised eyebrow probably means Blaine's a really shitty actor. "I'm just worried about him."

"He'll be fine," Sebastian insists. "Now can we please dance?"

"We _are_ dancing," Blaine says.

"You're awfully far away," he says, wrapping an arm around Blaine's waist and pulling him closer. "See, that's better."

Sebastian begins moving his hips with the beat, and Blaine finds himself following suit. He loves to dance, and the buzz of the alcohol and the music and atmosphere have put him in the mood. Still, he can't help but notice Kurt's presence. The colored lights and strobes on the dance floor make it difficult to see his expression, but Blaine keeps glancing over to make sure he's still there.

Kurt's hunched over a little, studying his own hands; Tina isn't sitting next to him anymore and he's alone for the moment. He looks up and catches Blaine's eye. Something about it tugs at Blaine's heart. He wants to fix whatever pain Kurt is feeling, but he doesn't know how. Kurt won't tell him what's wrong, and everything he's tried tonight has failed. And now, here he is, dancing with Sebastian, when he'd rather just be talking to Kurt.

"Christ, Blaine, just go fuck him already," Sebastian says, twirling Blaine out of his arms and disappearing into the mass of bodies gyrating around them.

Blaine keeps dancing, though, because when he looks up, Kurt is smiling at him. He gets silly, shaking his ass in Kurt's direction, spinning around and laughing. He motions for Kurt to join him, but Kurt just shakes his head, lifting his straw to his lips and taking a drink. He mimes a toast in Blaine's direction.

He shrugs, continuing to dance and spin, winking playfully at Kurt, who's hiding a laugh behind his hand. _Finally_, Blaine thinks. He starts to feel lighter, like the room has suddenly brightened, the sun coming out after a storm, and then he feels an arm wrap around his waist.

Sebastian leans in close to his ear and says, "Now that's more like it."

As soon as he realizes what's going on, Blaine's eyes shoot over to Kurt, but he's up and heading toward the bathroom. As Blaine follows, he hears Sebastian call out, "Go get him, Killer!"

When Blaine finally winds his way through the throng on the dance floor to find Kurt, he finds him standing outside the bathroom door, his head tilted back against the wall as he blinks back tears.

"Someone in there?" he asks as gently and nonchalantly as he can. It's as good a thing to say as anything.

Kurt lets out a humorless laugh, his features immediately twisting back into the same glare he's been aiming at Blaine for most of the night, and Blaine just sees red. He grabs Kurt by his shoulders and shoves him back against the wall, invading Kurt's personal space with his entire body—all five feet, eight inches of him—and pinning Kurt's arms back as he struggles to free himself from Blaine's grip.

Blaine could let him go. Kurt's not going to run, but Blaine has reached his breaking point, and he's done with Kurt's fluctuating mood and confusing behavior. This has gone on long enough. They're having this out and they're clearing the air once and for all.

"What is your problem tonight? You've been a total dick to everyone, especially me, and I thought we were friends."

"Well you're here with that asshole Sebastian for one," Kurt grits out through clenched teeth. He struggles against Blaine's hold again, but Blaine only grips him tighter.

"Sebas– ?" Blaine stutters. How is this still an issue? He can almost feel the blood rushing hotter through his veins as his anger flares up. "I told you, I'm not dating Sebastian. And what does that have to do with you being such a bitch tonight?"

Kurt is glaring at Blaine, nostrils flared and jaw tense. But he doesn't speak, which only makes Blaine more angry. He pushes into Kurt more, pressing him harder against the wall.

"I said, what's your problem with me, Kurt?"

Kurt stares at him for a moment, panting, not quite making eye contact.

"I heard you making plans with him," Kurt says, his teeth clenched and his lips tight. "He said he hadn't gotten laid in weeks and you said okay."

Blaine laughs. He can't help it. Kurt's eyes flash in anger and he tries to pull away again, but Blaine remains perfectly still, pressing Kurt flush against the wall.

"Kurt, stop," he says. "Just stop. He asked me to be his wing man, and I said yes. Nothing more."

Kurt's face relaxes a little, but he still looks unsure.

"Why are you so upset about it anyway?" Blaine asks. He needs to know. He can't keep doing this.

Kurt's breathing picks up again, and Blaine thinks he's going to answer, but in a split second, everything shifts. Kurt's lips are on his, firm and possessive. It only takes Blaine a moment to realize what's happening, and when he does, he responds with his entire body. This is everything he's wanted since he first met Kurt. His hands find the back of Kurt's neck easily as he pulls Kurt in closer, and when Kurt's lips part in a gasp, Blaine presses his tongue in, desperate for more. Kurt's response is immediate; he pushes back and takes control of the kiss, pulling Blaine up on his tiptoes as he grips the back of Blaine's sweater tightly.

They're kissing. They're pressed up against a wall near a unisex bathroom in a dirty, smoke-filled bar, kissing like they'll never get another chance. It's perfect.

Blaine pauses when he hears a giggle to his left — a petite blonde pressing her face into the shoulder of her friend. He and Kurt are blocking the way back to the bar, and the girls are obviously tipsy. Kurt shoves him off, and Blaine steps back to let the girls pass, giggling the entire time.

Blaine can't help but laugh himself from sheer delight, but when he turns back to Kurt, his face is drawn; he looks pale and panicked.

"We should get back," he says, and races past Blaine and out into the noisy bar.

Blaine doesn't move for a moment, trying to catch his breath as he comes to terms with what just happened. Kurt kissed him; he kissed Kurt. They kissed.

He actually giggles to himself standing in the small hallway outside the bathroom, his hand clamped over his mouth as his heart races.

Of course, he's vaguely aware that Kurt ran off — and they've _got_ to talk about this — but he's not letting his mind go there just yet because Kurt kissed him.

God, he feels ridiculous being this giddy over a kiss, but he doesn't care. That kiss had been everything, and Blaine's been around the block enough to know that not all kisses are the same. Some kisses are just lips and tongues and saliva, a simple matter of putting your face near someone else's and closing the distance between, but other kisses — the kind that you feel in every cell of your body; the ones that make you think you might be the first person in the history of mankind to be kissed; the kind that make you want to write songs in your head while it's happening because if you don't the feeling might fade and you'll forget the adjectives you wanted to use; the kind of kiss he just had with Kurt — well, those kisses are the beginning, the middle, and the end. It's the kind of chemistry, romance, and passion that people search their whole lives for, and it just happened to Blaine. He's kind of not sure what to do with that revelation.

Instead of trying to figure it out, he returns to the table. Kurt is chatting amiably with Lauren like nothing happened, and Blaine just wants to drag him out back and kiss him until they can't breathe. How can he not be reacting to that kiss? Didn't it knock him on his ass too?

"Blaine, are you alright?" Tina asks. "You look white as a sheet."

"Huh? Oh… yeah," Blaine says. "I think just maybe… too much dancing?"

"Well sit down and catch your breath," she says, patting the chair between her and Kurt. "Lauren was just telling us about the other phrases she's been teaching Adamo."

Blaine sits down and tries to act normal, but he's hyper aware of Kurt's presence: the way his hair is curling slightly near his ear; the barest hint of stubble along his jaw; how his fingers curl and flex with his movements; how close and full his lips look. Blaine is dying to talk to him about what just happened. Or maybe not talk at all. He just wants to be alone with him, but it seems that Kurt is definitely not having the same problem.

"Can you please teach him that line from _As Good As It Gets_?" Kurt asks Lauren. "I'm dying to hear him impersonate Jack Nicholson with that gorgeous Italian accent of his."

"Which line?"

"You know, when he finally confesses his love to Helen Hunt and he tells her 'You make me want to be a better man.' "

"God, that's a good line," Tina says.

"I know, right?" Kurt says.

"Oooh, or 'You had me at hello' from _Jerry Maguire_," Tina says. "I love that line."

"That's such an unromantic movie, though," Kurt replies. "I mean, it's Tom Cruise."

"What's wrong with Tom Cruise?"

"Just no," Kurt says, shaking his head firmly. "No way."

"Blaine, what about you?" Tina asks. "What romantic movie line do you wish some guy would use on you?"

Blaine doesn't even have to think about it. Not really. It's just the first thing that pops into his head.

"You should be kissed and often and by someone who knows how," he says. "It's from–"

"_Gone With the Wind_," Tina says. "Clark Gable says it to Vivien Leigh, and it's probably one of the most romantic movie moments ever. I love that movie so much. Good one, Blaine." She sighs fondly and then smiles.

"Yeah, Kurt and I just went and saw that at the Trocadero," Blaine says. "Remember, Kurt?"

Kurt smiles at him and nods, but doesn't expand on it.

"What about _Casablanca_?" Kurt asks.

"No," Lauren says. "This started because he wouldn't stop trying to talk like Humphrey Bogart. We want him speaking English, not sounding like a film noir character."

"Yeah, I never understood the draw of Bogart," Sebastian says. "Don't get me wrong, I love _Casablanca_, but how was he ever a sex symbol?"

"This coming from a walking cliché," Kurt quips.

"I thought you'd put the claws away, Pepe Le Pew."

"He was the skunk, you halfwit," Kurt says, but there's no venom; his mood is lighter. Blaine smiles.

"He's got a point," Blaine says.

Sebastian raises an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything, and the conversation continues around them. Blaine looks over at Kurt, but he's engrossed in whatever Mike is saying. Everything is normal.

Blaine starts to wonder if he made the whole thing up. He's fantasized about Kurt so much at this point that maybe his mind went into overdrive and he created the entire kiss in his head.

No, that's impossible. Blaine might be a bit of a dreamer by nature, but this was too real to deny. He's _never_ had a kiss that good; he couldn't have dreamt _that_ kiss. Even his subconscious couldn't come up with something so life-changing, so perfect. But then why is Kurt so blasé about it? It obviously hasn't affected him in the same way. He's laughing at everyone's jokes and now he's standing up waving at Adamo and telling Lauren to make sure Santana gets home in one piece.

"You're leaving?" Blaine says.

"I have an early call time in the morning," Kurt says.

"I'll walk you out." Blaine pushes his chair out and is halfway to standing when he feels Kurt's hand on his shoulder.

"No, it's fine. I called a cab," he says. "Stay… have fun." His voice is gentle, steady; he's the picture of composure. How is he so calm?

Blaine's heart sinks at Kurt's reaction, but he sits back down anyway and looks forlornly up at him. This feels wrong. Blaine wants to say something, but his mind is blank, and words won't come.

Kurt offers him a small smile and says, "Coffee Tuesday morning?"

Blaine nods slowly and watches Kurt leave, his head spinning from the alcohol and the confusion over Kurt's nonchalance. He glances over to Tina to see her watching him suspiciously. He lifts his glass and takes a sip, smiling at her in what he hopes is a convincing way, though whether he's trying to convince Tina or himself, he isn't entirely sure.


	11. Chapter 11

Kurt doesn't push Blaine out of his life this time. In fact, everything is completely normal — almost too normal. Kurt texts Blaine on Sunday to ask him the name of the actor who played the love interest in the last movie they saw together. Blaine replies — Gareth David-Lloyd — and Kurt says thanks. On Monday Kurt sends him a photo of a lamp: Found this at a thrift store. Tacky or just quirky enough to work? Blaine replies: If you paint it, I think it will be fine.

Blaine again is faced with the idea that he might have dreamt that kiss. Because Kurt is definitely not acknowledging it, and it's too strange to think why. Maybe Kurt regrets it, or then again, maybe he wants Blaine to bring it up first.

Suspecting that one of those reasons is probably true, Blaine decides to mention it when they meet for coffee on Tuesday. He'll lay it all out on the table, and, as much as it pains him, if Kurt still just wants to be friends, Blaine will respect it. There's no need to make a bigger deal out of this than necessary.

But as much as Blaine wants that to be the way it happens, he oversleeps Tuesday morning and has an appointment with a printer that he can't be late for. Jan West may be Price's biggest client, but she's not the only one, and with as busy as he's been with her campaign, Blaine's been neglecting other projects.

Kurt is sitting at a table with two paper cups in front of him when Blaine rushes through the door 20 minutes late.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry," he says between rasping breaths. "I overslept and then I realized I had a 9 a.m. meeting that I can't be late for. So I can't stay. Do you hate me? I hate me."

"Blaine, it's fine," Kurt says, smiling. He hands Blaine his coffee and says, "I got your coffee, so you're good to go."

He leaves in a rush and doesn't see Kurt again for at least a week. The problem is, things get busy for Blaine; he's wrapping everything up for the holiday campaign. So he and Kurt miss movie nights and Tuesday coffee gets pushed back further and further because Blaine doesn't have as much free time as he would like. Work takes over his mind and his life. Kurt seems to take it in stride.

As time wears on, Blaine feels like he's missed his window of opportunity to talk to Kurt about the kiss. It's gone on too long, and it's become this elephant in the room that neither of them mentions. So when faced with the choice of bending to adapt to the situation at hand or breaking and upsetting the precious equilibrium of their friendship, Blaine decides to bend.

Obviously Kurt regrets kissing him, and Blaine doesn't want to bring it up if Kurt isn't ready. Besides, it's not a big deal to Blaine if Kurt doesn't think it is, and _he's_ not mentioning it, so it must not be a big deal.

When they finally get some time to hang out again, Kurt invites Blaine over to watch a movie, which is strange because they never go over to his place. Normally they're at Blaine's because Kurt doesn't live alone, but Santana and Lauren are going to be out, and Kurt is insistent that they spend the evening at his place.

"I'm so glad you wanted to do this," Blaine says, pouring them both a glass of wine. "I've missed our movie nights."

It's comforting that it's just the two of them again; Blaine can't remember the last time they were alone for any length of time, and it's far less tense than he expected. There's no lingering awkwardness, which should feel strange but doesn't.

"Me too," Kurt says. "We've both been so busy lately."

"I'm sorry about that," Blaine says. "With the launch party coming up, I've been pulling 12-hour days. Yvonne is ready to pull her hair out, and Lorelei's breathing down my neck to get that last shoot done. Did the agency contact you about that?"

"Yeah, they called this morning," he says. "Just me, huh?"

"Well, it's just the one suit and we'll be in the studio for it. When I saw it, I knew it would be perfect on you. Wait until you see Ben's styling."

"I can't believe you didn't send me pictures," Kurt huffs. He's teasing; it feels good.

"I wanted to surprise you, silly. C'mon, let's go start this movie." Blaine nudges Kurt's shoulder and picks up the two glasses. He follows Kurt into the living room.

As they're settling into the worn sofa, Kurt says, "You should be my date to the launch party." He looks down at the wine glass Blaine hands him. "You know, since we both have to be there. Takes the pressure off to find someone else."

"Right." Blaine pauses for a moment, unsure if he wants to continue. This feels like a moment, like he should say something. "Kurt, can I ask you a question?"

"As long as it's not 'what's your favorite Vogue cover?' because you know I could never decide."

"No, it's not that, it's about that night at the club…"

Blaine trails off when he sees Kurt tense up, but he can't back out now. They need to talk about this — if for no other reason than to save Blaine's sanity.

"It's just… I feel like we've always been pretty honest with each other, and I don't want there to be any question where we stand… Because we have coffee together, we do movie nights; we're friends, and this…" He gestures between them. "… is something really special to me, and I don't want to screw it up." He pauses and takes a deep breath. This is it. He's all in. "But then you kissed me, and it was so great–"

"It was?" Kurt interrupts.

"It was perfect, Kurt. _You're_ perfect, and I just want us to–"

But he's cut off at the sound of the front door opening. He and Kurt both turn to look just as Lauren bounds in with two girls and a guy he's never seen before.

"Hey guys," she says. "This is Angie and Jennifer, and Captain Ahab over there is called Rob." She's balancing a pizza in her left hand and a case of beer in her right. "Santana texted me; she's headed headed home with her flavor of the week _and_ her roommate. Told me to grab a pizza."

"I thought you were going out tonight."

"Change of plans," she says. "The restaurant was booked for a private party, and Rob didn't want to do sushi, so… pizza." She looks between Kurt and Blaine and her eyes narrow. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No!" Kurt practically shouts. "No, no… we're just watching a movie. The more the merrier, right Blaine?"

Blaine swallows heavily. He'd just been about to confess his feelings to Kurt, and they were finally getting somewhere, but instead here they are, stuck in the middle of an impromptu house party with half a dozen strangers. Perfect.

"Right," he says. "The more the merrier." He takes a gulp of his wine and shivers as it burns down his throat.

* * *

After that night, Blaine doesn't see Kurt again until the photo shoot, and things are weird. Kurt isn't himself and it's showing in the photos.

"Kurt, can you try maybe angling your chin down more?" Zach asks. He snaps a few frames and looks at the preview on the screen, before turning to Blaine. "How's that look from over there?"

Blaine squints at the image on his laptop. "Something's not quite right," he says. "I can't put my finger on it." He stands up and walks over next to Zach. "Maybe the lighting?"

"I can try adding another strobe — make it harsher, maybe?"

"Yeah, let's try that," Blaine says. "Kurt, take five."

Blaine goes back to his laptop and scrolls through the last few shots. He can't quite figure out what's wrong with the photos. Everything is technically good, but Kurt's not connecting with the camera like he usually does. There's just something missing from his eyes, like his usual motivation is gone.

"Kurt, you got a sec?" he calls out.

Kurt looks up from his phone and nods, making his way over to Blaine.

"What's up?" he asks.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," Blaine says. "I'm just not seeing your usual… spark."

"I'm sorry," Kurt says, looking down at his folded hands. "I guess I'm just distracted. I'll try harder."

"Just relax," Blaine says. "It's just me and Zach. You've done this a million times." He places a hand on Kurt's shoulder, trying to soothe him. He feels Kurt's muscles tense, so he drops his hand. "You ready?"

Kurt nods, and they get back to work. The lighting is better, making Kurt's angular features more severe; it should be working, but it's not. Zach's huffing a little, and Blaine is losing his patience. He drops his head in hand and considers the situation. He knows Kurt is off his game because of him; the unspoken things between them have become a weight neither of them is handling very well. It's his job to make sure Kurt's on his game, and he's failing, personally and professionally. They need to talk, but there's no time here on set.

Suddenly, Blaine has an idea.

"Hey Zach," he says. "Mind if I try something?"

"I'll try anything at this point," he says.

"Okay, guys, just bear with me here."

Kurt looks up questioningly, but doesn't object.

Blaine walks over to Zach and holds out his hand. "May I?"

Zach raises an eyebrow, but holds out the camera for Blaine to take. Kurt's eyes light up with something new: a challenge, perhaps. Blaine is transfixed as if some force is holding him in place.

"Kurt, just make sure you maintain eye contact with the camera," Blaine says. "Direct it all at the lens." What he means is, take all that anger, desire, passion, frustration, whatever it is that is holding him back, whatever he's feeling, and channel it into his work. Let it go. He lowers his voice and leans in so only Kurt can hear him. "Direct it all at _me_ if you have to."

Kurt seems to understand because he nods, his eyes fixed on Blaine's as his breathing picks up, and if it weren't for the camera and all the lights between them, Blaine would swear they're back outside that bathroom, suspended in the second before Kurt kissed him. Then Kurt locks his gaze on the camera lens three feet from his face, determination apparent in the set of his jaw, and a hushed anticipation settles over them. Kurt blinks twice and relaxes into the posture that Blaine instantly recognizes as his model's stance; he's ready to go.

Blaine smiles and ducks behind the camera, using the viewfinder rather than the digital display. There's an intimacy in it, seeing Kurt through the focused view of the lens, and Blaine is awestruck. It's like seeing Kurt for the first time, all of his emotions raw and his soul laid bare. In that moment, the shock of Kurt's beauty shoots through Blaine like fireworks — a sharp point of light that erupts into a shower of sparks in his chest. He holds his breath and snaps the shutter. Zach had left it on a rapid-fire setting, so he shoots about 10 frames at once, catching the subtle changes in Kurt's expression.

He glances down at the display; even at only 3 inches wide, he can tell the shots are what they're looking for. Blaine lifts the camera back up and smiles. "Alright, Kurt, let's try that again, and this time I want you to really take a risk. Try something new and don't hold back."

The set is eerily silent, only the click of the shutter and Kurt's subtle shifts in movement making any sound. Blaine is certain Zach can hear his heartbeat because it's so loud in his own ears, there's no way it can't be heard from space, let alone five feet away, though he finds it hard to care because there's an energy in the room he's not felt before. And judging by the light in Kurt's eyes, Blaine thinks that he also recognizes this groove they've somehow managed to get into.

Zach retreats behind Blaine's laptop after a bit to see the photos as Blaine shoots them.

"You look like you've done this before," Zach says, when Blaine finally lowers the camera for a second to check a shot.

"Just as a hobby," Blaine replies without looking up. "In college."

Zach shrugs. "You're good," he says. "I'm impressed."

"Thanks," he says, before turning back to Kurt. "Okay. Give me _more_." He pauses, feeling like they're on the verge of something here, like there's something lurking just under the surface and straining to get out. If he can only tap into it, find the right thing to say to pull just a bit more emotion out of Kurt. "I want to see whatever it is you're feeling… right now. Let it read on your face. It's just you and me."

Blaine sees Kurt's jaw tense, just slightly, and his breath catches. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Kurt grips his tie in his right hand and pulls it to the side, lifting up on his toes and tensing his whole body. As Blaine clicks the shutter, he exhales. He's overwhelmed with a flurry of emotions and pure visceral need. He wants to grab Kurt by that tie and take him to the back room and ravage him, pin him against a wall and kiss him until he begs for more. Kurt is visibly panting, and Blaine wonders if he's thinking the same thing.

He never wants this feeling to end, this perfect connection they have — Blaine, Kurt and the camera — he wants to keep going, but he knows it has to end some time.

"I think we got it," Blaine says finally. He tries to keep his face neutral, but his body is practically shaking with adrenalin and the thrill of what just happened on set.

"I'd say so," Zach says, fanning himself dramatically. "That was H-O-T hot."

Kurt seems frozen for a moment, almost as if the whole thing hasn't registered yet, and then he smiles, a beaming, all-over grin. "You really think so?"

"I think we got the best shots of the campaign today," Zach says. "Kurt, you were amazing!"

"Thanks," he says, blushing a little. "Blaine helped. I mean– his direction. Channeling my emotions was a good suggestion." He scuffs his shoes on the concrete floor and looks up at Blaine.

Blaine meets Kurt's eyes and sees the same look Kurt had when he kissed him. His skin tingles with something new, something unexpected.

"Do you want to grab lunch?" he asks.

* * *

"You take my breath away," Kurt says, standing in the doorway of Blaine's bedroom. They'd stopped at his apartment so Blaine could change his shirt, and they'd both been so distracted talking about the shoot, that Kurt had simply followed him in. Blaine hadn't even realized he was there until he hears Kurt's voice behind him, and he freezes. Before turning around, he glances down at himself. He has his shirt off, and his pants are unbuttoned and slung low around his hips, a hint of the grey of his boxer briefs peeking out of the fly.

Blaine turns around slowly, unsure of what to do next.

Kurt's eyes flick down Blaine's body before snapping back up to meet his eyes and widening in part shock, part arousal.

"Did I say that out loud?"

Blaine licks his lips and frowns slightly, his eyes narrowing. "Did you mean it?"

Kurt inhales and holds his breath for a moment, biting his bottom lip and then releasing it. "Yes?" The word comes out with his breath, and Blaine crosses the room in an instant.

"Me too," he says. "When you kissed me, I–"

Kurt presses a finger to his lips, "Shh. No talking. Let's just…" and he trails off as he leans forward to brush his lips against Blaine's, a tentative question that Blaine answers by pushing forward into Kurt, rising up on his toes a little and rocking them both with the movement. Kurt catches him by his hips and steadies them both, holding Blaine in place and drawing a groan from Blaine's throat. He wants to be closer, so opens his mouth to invite Kurt's tongue. It brushes against his, velvety and teasing, just a whisper of contact. Blaine just wants this moment to last; he wants to savor it because it's right.

This is where they should be; it's theirs.

But then Kurt's kissing becomes more insistent, more possessive, as he pulls his lips away and peppers Blaine's face and neck with open-mouthed kisses.

"Kurt," Blaine gasps. "I need you."

Kurt pauses, and pulls back to look at Blaine, his eyes roving over Blaine's face as if he's trying to decide something as he reads him like a book. "You have me," he says finally. "However you want me."

That's all Blaine needs to hear. He surges forward and grips Kurt by the waist, steering him toward the bed. When the back of Kurt's knees hit the edge, they're jolted a little, Blaine's knees knocking against Kurt's shins as they fall in a tangle of limbs onto the sheets. Kurt's movements are frantic now, scrabbling for a place to hold onto Blaine, but there's nothing to grab onto with him shirtless, so his hands paint Blaine's skin with warmth, every sensation burning through him like fire.

Blaine straddles Kurt and nudges his shirt up, trailing his palm along Kurt's smooth skin and feeling a prickle of stubble along his chest where the hair is starting to grow out from his most recent waxing.

"That tickles," Kurt says, shivering.

Blaine pulls his hand back. "Sorry."

"No, it's fine," Kurt says, reaching for Blaine's hand and placing it back on his torso. "I wasn't complaining."

Blaine smiles down at him, and whispers "okay" — a tiny breath of a word that carries more weight than it should. Now that he has express permission to touch, Blaine moves with intent, shoving Kurt's shirt farther up his chest so he can lower his head and rub his cheek along Kurt's ribs. The stutter and start of their dry skin ghosting over each other sends a shiver up his spine as goose bumps break out over his arms. Blaine traces a loose figure eight over Kurt's side with his tongue and giggles when Kurt squirms beneath him.

After spending months memorizing every inch of Kurt's body on his computer screen, Blaine delights in mapping out Kurt's dips and angles with his fingers and mouth, exploring in ways he's only dared to dream, as he undresses him and learns Kurt's rhythm. Blaine treasures every caress and sigh, every shudder and gasp, unsure if he'll ever get the chance to do this again. Right now it doesn't matter because he's here, and Kurt's here, and there's nowhere else he'd rather be and nothing else he'd rather do.

Kurt becomes gradually more vocal, his moans and high-pitched whimpering giving way to full-on groans and the occasional "oh god" or "Blaine" until he's begging to be touched, to be released from the overwhelming surge of want coursing through them both. And Blaine wants nothing more than to give it to him, to finally acquiesce to the pull of the tide washing over them. He reaches down between them and hooks his fingers under the waistband of Kurt's briefs, the only article of clothing separating Blaine from the few inches of Kurt's skin he's only been able to fantasize about until now, as he follows the teasing strip of hair trailing down beneath his bellybutton and disappearing beneath tightly stretched cotton.

Blaine, still in his own jeans, suddenly feels completely naked in front of Kurt. They've never been this real with each other before, and it's freeing and frightening in equal measure. The release he feels at just being able to touch, to explore… to _have_, is indescribable. He wants so much, but mostly he wants to savor.

Kurt raises up on his elbows at Blaine's hesitance and lifts an eyebrow. "Everything okay?"

Blaine nods eagerly. "You're just… _god_, Kurt… I can't stop looking at you."

"You've seen me before."

Blaine shakes his head, even though Kurt's right, because it's just not the same. "Not like this," he says. "So open, and wanting, and…" he feels the corners of his mouth tug into a teasing grin. "So fuckable."

"So fuck me."

"What?"

"Fuck me," he says. "Have your way with me. Do what you've always wanted."

"Why do I feel like there's a catch?"

"No catch," Kurt says, trailing a hand along Blaine's arm. It's feather light and teasing. "I want it too, Blaine. Now stop talking and kiss me."

For a second Blaine thinks he might stop them from crossing this line — his brain screaming "pull back, think, talk it through" — but his body, and the want of it all, is pulling him down and down and down, drowning him in Kurt, and he knows it's a losing battle to try and fight it any longer. There's no easing into it, no dip of the toe in the too-deep waters, he's diving forward headfirst, and the rush of it all feels like running through a sprinkler on a hot summer day, or pressing his face into the cool side of the pillow — fire-quenching and comforting all at once. It's all he can do to keep from telling Kurt he loves him.

He looks down at Kurt and lets himself fall, losing himself in the feeling of Kurt's body pressed against his and the simple movements of their lips and tongues, tangled between them like vines. Everything else just slips away, and he's left with only the quiet desire for sex and its intimate release.

Once he decides to give himself over fully to the moment, Blaine's thoughts turn unbridled, sexual, deviant; his fantasies run wild through his mind. He wants to take and taste and indulge. So he does.

Blaine runs his right hand along Kurt's neck and pushes him back into the bed as Kurt arches his lower body into Blaine's touch. His fingers thread through Kurt's hair, thick and glossy between them. He tugs experimentally, earning a small grunt of pleasure; he tugs harder and Kurt groans.

That one little sound is the first domino in a line, knocking down all of Blaine's hesitation. It feels almost symbolic as he removes what remains of their clothing in quick, fluid movements, without pretense or delay.

And then it's groping and tasting and feeling and a thousand reasons they should have done this on the day they met. The sensations are heightened; every touch a point of light.

Kurt's hands trace down Blaine's back like flames licking at his skin and then he's squeezing Blaine's ass and tugging him closer, rutting his hard cock against Blaine's.

"God, Blaine, please touch me," Kurt says. "I'm going to die if I don't come soon."

And without even thinking about it, Blaine replies, "I want to suck you."

"Fuck yes, please." Kurt throws his head back and arches up, rutting against air, his hard cock bouncing freely as he searches for relief.

Blaine makes his way down the bed until he's level with Kurt's flushed cock. Positioned between Kurt's legs, Blaine realizes he's waited so long to be able to do this with Kurt that he doesn't even hesitate in wrapping his hand around the base and his lips around the head. He lowers himself slowly, though, wanting to feel Kurt fill his mouth.

He hears a choked off moan above him, urging him on. He sucks harder and takes Kurt in as far as he can, the head of Kurt's cock just hitting the back of his throat. Kurt bucks up at the sensation, but Blaine is just as quick, pulling back just enough to keep from choking.

"That feels so fucking good," Kurt says.

At the sound of Kurt's breathy declaration, Blaine finds himself fighting the urge to rut down into the sheets. He needs to last, to make sure Kurt comes; it's his number one goal and he's going to make it happen. Of course, he realizes how silly he's being. The goal here is for both of them to get off, but Blaine just wants to see Kurt fall apart, to shout his name and tip over the edge into bliss — and all because Blaine led him there.

It isn't long before Kurt is tensing up and Blaine can feel his orgasm building. His balls draw up tight under Blaine's fingertips and his thighs flex as Blaine braces himself for the taste of Kurt's come in his mouth. But then Kurt's hand is on his shoulder and he's pushing against Blaine, saying, "stop… stop."

Blaine pulls off and looks up at him, flexing his jaw where it's begun to ache a little. "What's the matter?"

"If you don't stop I'm going to come," Kurt pants, an arm thrown over his face.

Blaine smiles. "I thought that was the point."

"Oh god yes," Kurt sighs. "But I want us to both come, and I'm kind of a selfish prick. If you make me come, you're gonna be on your own. So…"

"I get the picture," Blaine says biting back a laugh. "So what do you suggest?"

"Do you have condoms?" Kurt asks.

Blaine looks at him for a moment, thinking, "I'm a single gay guy over the age of 18, what the fuck do you think?" before jumping up from the bed and digging around in his sock drawer for the box he knows is probably far more buried than it should be.

Blaine turns around to face Kurt triumphantly, box of condoms and lube in his hand, and he's greeted with the most delicious sight: Kurt sprawled out spectacularly on display for him, chest flushed and heaving, his cock jutting up stiffly from between his legs as he crooks a finger at Blaine to bring him back to the bed.

Stumbling and awkward, Blaine makes his way back to the bed, and it has to be the most unsexy thing ever, but Kurt doesn't seem deterred as he grins at Blaine before flipping himself over and arching his hips up seductively toward Blaine.

Blaine had hoped Kurt would remain on his back so he could see his face, but if this is how Kurt wants it, he'll happily comply. It briefly occurs to him that maybe Kurt hasn't had as much experience with sex as he'd first thought. Sebastian had said they fucked, and he knows what that often means when you're young. Fucking for the sake of fucking and sticking to the positions where it's easiest to get off and best to avoid getting too attached.

It's the only time since Kurt came into his bedroom that he's considered their age difference. So if this is how Kurt wants it, Blaine will give it to him. There's no point in forcing him out of his comfort zone if it's only going to scare him off again.

So he takes time to prepare Kurt, fairly certain he's not been having sex regularly, expertly using his fingers and lube to open him up.

"Jesus Christ, Blaine," Kurt says, his voice muffled where his face is shoved into a pillow. "Will you just do it already?"

"I just… don't want to hurt you," Blaine says, trying not to sound condescending. He doesn't want Kurt to think he's assuming anything.

Kurt turns his head to glare over his shoulder at Blaine. "You're not going to fucking break me," he says. "I'm not some blushing virgin."

"Right... sorry."

Blaine positions himself behind Kurt and lines up, hesitating only for a second before pushing forward into the tight heat of Kurt's body. Blaine always likes this part the best, that moment when he can feel the other person's body yield to his own with an instant rush of pleasure and intimacy, as close as he can possibly be to another person. He groans, savoring the moment, but then Kurt is grinding back toward him and he forgets everything else.

It happens in a rush after that, having already worked themselves up so many times. Kurt is rutting into the mattress with each of Blaine's thrusts as Blaine grips tightly to his hips, meeting Kurt's rhythm as best he can. It's too much and it's probably going to be over far too soon, but Blaine can't find it in him to care because it all feels so good.

Just as he thinks he can't hold on any longer, Kurt cries out, his body shuddering and clenching around him, and that's all Blaine needs to send him over the edge too. The force of his own orgasm causes him to lose his balance, pressing his weight into Kurt, but he doesn't seem to mind, sighing contentedly as Blaine's body settles over him.

They lie like that for a moment, panting and coming down from the high of orgasm until Blaine can feel his legs enough to lift up on his knees and pull out.

"Wow," Kurt breathes.

"That doesn't even begin to cover it," Blaine replies, flopping down on the bed beside him.

"I'm glad we got that out of our systems," Kurt says matter-of-factly.

Blaine looks over at him, wondering what he means. It definitely doesn't feel out of his system. He wants to do it all again… a lot. All the time.

He laughs nervously and says, "Yeah… uh, me too." Blaine hopes Kurt doesn't hear that questioning tone in his voice, and yet, he's not even sure why he agreed.

"Good," Kurt says, sitting up. He reaches to the floor for his underwear and stands to put them back on. He quickly finds all of his discarded clothing and turns back to Blaine on the bed.

Blaine is conflicted and suddenly very confused. Did Kurt really just think this was getting it out of his system? That they could go back to being friends after this? He tries to calm his breathing, not let it show, but he's kind of panicking.

"It was stupid to try to deny that we're attracted to each other," Kurt says, still a little out of breath. He dresses quickly without looking at Blaine. "But it was really starting to affect our work. Now we can focus again. It's a win-win." Kurt turns and smiles at him. "I'll call you," he says.

Blaine props himself up on an elbow and opens his mouth to say something, anything to get Kurt to stay, but he freezes, the words caught in his throat. Instead, he nods and watches as Kurt walks out of his bedroom. When he hears the front door close, Blaine drops his head back on the pillow and tries not to think about what just happened.


	12. Chapter 12

With the photo shoot wrapped, Blaine doesn't have an excuse to see Kurt — at least not one that one of them doesn't initiate — so it's weird to even call him. Everything feels stilted; their friendship is irrevocably changed. And then plans for Tuesday coffee that week get canceled — Blaine is too busy with work and needs to go in early — and a movie night gets postponed — Kurt books back-to-back jobs and his schedule changes. A series of similar occurrences get in the way, and it just becomes easier to go with the flow.

It's not that Blaine's avoiding Kurt, it's just that he doesn't know what to say. Clearly Kurt had wanted it to be a one-time thing, but Blaine doesn't feel the same way. Or maybe he does. He's not really sure any more, and that's what's making it awkward. He thought he wanted a relationship with Kurt, but now, well, he wonders if maybe their age difference might be more problematic than he had realized.

So he avoids. He avoids and he tries to forget as he edits photos from the last day of the photo shoot. So far, he's not seeing any shots he likes; they're mostly the shots Zach had taken early in the day, and Kurt looks disconnected. He scrolls down until he finds the pose he's looking for: Kurt tugging on his tie and staring straight into the camera.

It's still the most striking image of Kurt he's ever seen.

"Ooh, what's that?" Yvonne asks over his shoulder.

"Proofs for One West. I think this is _the_ shot." He looks up at her expectantly.

"It's risky."

Blaine nods. "Do you think Lorelei will go for it?"

"Maybe," Yvonne says, looking thoughtful. "We might as well try."

"What do _you_ think?" Blaine asks, hoping she agrees with him. This is the image he wants to build the entire campaign around, and things might go a little smoother with her support.

"Honestly?" she asks. "It's a fucking amazing shot and if you don't fight tooth and nail to keep it, I will personally fire you."

* * *

"It's just too much of a risk, Blaine," Lorelei says after Blaine finishes his presentation. "Jan is going to want another option."

"I don't want to give her options," he says. "I believe in this campaign. It's the right one. I'm sure of it."

"It's definitely eye-catching," Lorelei says, "but you've got to look at this from my perspective. I'm trying to run a business here, and I need happy clients. Jan West is picky, and that's putting it mildly. I can't risk putting her off and possibly nixing the spring campaign."

"She won't."

Lorelei looks down at the folder in front of her where Blaine has assembled a brief. She flips through a few pages, biting her lip as she twirls a pen between her fingers. Without looking up, she asks, "Are you 100 percent sure about this?"

"Absolutely."

She looks up at him. "Willing to bet your job on it?"

Blaine swallows and takes a deep breath. Is he that sure? There is the off chance his judgment has been clouded by his feelings for Kurt, but then he remembers Yvonne's reaction and the way everyone else had absolutely fallen in love with the designs. Lorelei's really the only hold out before they go to the client.

Of course, the dark horse in all this is Kurt. He's four inches too short, and a completely different type of model than Jan has ever used as the face of her line before, which, if he's honest about it, is _why_ Yvonne had cast him in the first place. They both knew the job needed something fresh. It's really the best campaign Price has ever done.

Blaine smiles as he thinks of what this kind of exposure could mean for Kurt. It's that thought that tips the scale.

"You know what, Lorelei? I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

Blaine's phone rings just as he steps out of the meeting. It's Kurt.

"Hey," he says. "Perfect timing. I have great news. I just met with Lorelei and she green-lighted the campaign. You're going to be the new face of One West."

"Oh wow… really?!" Kurt's excitement is palpable even over the phone. "Oh my god, Blaine, that's fantastic!"

"We still have to run it by Jan, but I know she's going to love it. Congratulations!"

"Oh my god."

Blaine laughs. He's shocked and excited Kurt, and he's giddy with it.

"So, I was thinking for the launch party…"

"Oh," Kurt says, his excited tone fading in an instant. "Actually that's why I'm calling. I uh… well, there's no easy way to put this. I can't go with you… as your date."

Blaine is speechless. He knows their friendship had been awkward lately, but he didn't think Kurt was angry with him. Maybe their one slip-up affected Kurt more than he had thought.

"Is this about what happened between us?" Blaine says, lowering his voice so he won't be overheard in the busy office.

"No… no," Kurt says, his voice pitching higher and taking on a breathy quality. "Um, I just forgot I already had a date." Blaine can hear Kurt's breathing; it's uneven and heavy. "I'm really sorry." It sounds tacked on, like an afterthought.

"Why do you keep pushing me away?" Blaine asks, stepping into an empty conference room and closing the door.

"I'm not pushing you away, Blaine. I told you. I have a date with someone else." Kurt sounds frustrated, but Blaine doesn't care. Kurt's words have hit a nerve that was already raw, and he wants answers.

"Then why do I feel like this is some sort of test, Kurt? It's like ever since we met, all I do is jump through hoops for you, and every time I think I've jumped through them all, you put another one up in front of me."

"Blaine…" Kurt pleads. "It's not like that. I promise."

Kurt's words practically go unheard. Blaine is so angry he can barely think.

"It's _exactly_ like that, Kurt. Every time I think we're getting somewhere, you push me away, and there's only so much I can take. I'm sick of being treated like your enemy. We're supposed to be friends."

"Well then maybe we shouldn't be friends anymore," Kurt says.

"See? That's exactly what I'm talking about. Things get a little dicey and you act like a fucking child!"

"Fuck you, Blaine."

"No, I'm pretty sure I fucked you."

He knows that's a low blow, and he waits for the retort; it's Kurt's turn to return the volley, but it never comes. Blaine looks down at his phone and sees that Kurt disconnected the call. He hung up. Blaine grips his phone as tight as he can to keep himself from flinging it across the room.

* * *

As it turns out, Jan West loves the entire campaign. She's so excited about it, in fact, that she expands the launch party and moves it up a week. Blaine barely has time to think about his fight with Kurt, but it consumes him nonetheless. If it weren't for Yvonne and a team of amazing event planners in his office, he'd be totally screwed.

The night of the launch party finds Blaine curled up on his sofa watching _When Harry Met Sally_ and trying desperately not to think about Kurt. Of course it's a completely pointless task because it's all he can think about. He wants to be at that party with Kurt, watching him bask in the glow of his own success, proud to be with Blaine and proud of the work they've done together. He wants to be able to enjoy this accomplishment — the ad campaign looks flawless and everyone is already talking about the new line, and most especially Kurt — but Blaine can't bear to look at Kurt and not be with him, and it's not fair to Kurt for him to be a distraction at such an important moment.

Blaine sighs and drops his head back on the sofa. He knows it's immature of him to avoid the party altogether, but the idea of being there and watching Kurt on the arm of another guy is too much. He'd told Yvonne he was sick and he needed her to cover for him. She had looked like she didn't believe him for a second, but she didn't question him. She simply took the reins and told Blaine she hoped he felt better soon.

He's such a coward, and worse still, a coward sitting at home alone watching a romantic comedy about friends who become lovers. It's torture.

The funny thing is, when life imitates art, it really imitates it. When Harry has his epiphany about Sally, Blaine sits bolt upright on the couch. This is them. This is him and Kurt, and he's sitting at home feeling sorry for himself when he should be at that party telling Kurt how he feels.

He jumps up and throws his blanket to the floor, making a beeline for his bedroom to change his clothes and throwing on the first clean shirt he can find that has buttons. He's dressed and out the door in less than five minutes.

It looks like it might rain, but he doesn't want to go back upstairs for an umbrella. He'll just have to risk it. He practically runs the whole way, not even considering grabbing a cab. It's a movie moment if there ever was one.

When he arrives, the party is in full swing. People are dancing, laughing, having a good time. There are posters from the campaign everywhere – dozens of larger-than-life Kurts surrounding Blaine and daring him to fail. The real Kurt is nowhere to be seen. Blaine ducks between party-goers, dodging waiters and their trays of champagne, but there's still no sign of Kurt.

Finally, he spots a familiar head of over-styled styled hair atop a tall, lanky frame. He's leaning against the bar and flirting with the bartender.

"Sebastian, have you seen Kurt?" Blaine asks, his eyes still roving frantically about the room.

Sebastian looks like he's ready to tease for a moment, but something in Blaine's frazzled appearance must tell him now's not the time because he answers quickly.

"He just left," Sebastian says. "Said he had a date he was late for…"

"Oh," Blaine says. He's sure the disappointment is plain as day on his face, but he doesn't care. Let Sebastian, and everyone else, think what they want. It doesn't matter anymore. "Thanks."

So that's it. He's too late. Kurt is already interested in someone else and he blew it. He fucking blew it.

Blaine heads home feeling defeated and quite stupid for ever thinking Kurt would be interested in more than just friendship. The sky opens up just as he steps outside, and he curses himself for leaving his umbrella at home.

The rain quickly soaks through Blaine's thin cotton shirt, and the peach fabric drapes over him like a translucent second skin. He tugs at it, trying to get some relief from the heavy weight of the shirt pressed against his chest, but it's no use. He's soaked clean through. As he enters his building, he's already unbuttoning it and imagining the blessed relief of stepping into a hot shower. He runs a hand through his hair to get it out of his eyes before reaching into his pocket for his keys. When he looks up, he sees Kurt, standing across from his apartment door, hands in his pockets and an unidentifiable look on his face.

"You're here," Blaine says. "Why are you here?"

"I wanted to see you."

"But Sebastian said–"

Kurt's eyebrows shoot up. "You went to the party?" he asks.

"To find you."

Kurt steps closer, his eyes searching Blaine's face. "Why?"

Blaine doesn't answer, instead asking a question of his own. "Sebastian said you had a date?"

Kurt smiles and glances down at his own feet. There's a puddle forming on the floor between them where Blaine is dripping. "No, I told him I was late for one. About two months late."

Blaine shivers, whether it's from being cold and wet or from Kurt's words he's not sure.

"Kurt, what are you saying?

"What I'm saying is, I'd like to go on a date with you, and I'm sick of trying to pretend that we're just friends."

"Kurt…"

"Let me finish," he pleads.

"Okay."

"I know I was the one who said just friends, but it's only because I was so afraid. I haven't been very lucky with relationships, and I keep people at arm's length because of it, but you saw through all that. Even when I tried to push you away, you wouldn't let me, and you're… well, _you_." He reaches up to cup Blaine's face with his hand and strokes his cheek with his thumb. "You're this ridiculous dork who wears bow ties and cardigans just as often as he wears graphic t-shirts and cargo shorts. You sing along to musicals and drink disgusting drip coffee with too much sugar, and you let me have my way even when it's not what you want. And I may only be 19, Blaine, but I know what I want. And I want you. That is, if you'll have me."

Blaine isn't even sure what to say, which overture to respond to first, because his hands are shaking and his heart is racing and Kurt's is staring at him with so much hope in his vibrant blue eyes that it's kind of dizzying. Kurt wants him, and it's not a dream — though he considers pinching himself to be sure.

"Well, say something," Kurt says finally.

Blaine opens his mouth to speak, but then he realizes words aren't necessary. Kurt's said it all. He inches forward and rises up on his toes just enough so his face is level with Kurt's. He smiles, and kisses him. A soft, sweet, barely there kiss. He's not trying to prove anything, so there's no urgency; he's simply making a promise.

Kurt pulls back from the kiss, resting his forehead on Blaine's.

"And all this time I thought you weren't interested," he says, his smile plain in his tone.

"_Me_?" Blaine says, finally opening his eyes. "You kept saying you just wanted to be friends. It was killing me not being able to tell you how I felt."

Kurt's expression turns serious. "I'm sorry it took us so long to get here," he says.

"Don't be," Blaine says. "It was worth the wait." He pauses before smiling at Kurt and adding, "and the one-night stand."

When Kurt laughs, it tickles his nose. He leans back just enough to focus on Kurt's entire face.

"You have freckles," Blaine says with wide eyes and a warm smile. He grazes his fingers over Kurt's forehead and nose, plotting them out like pinpoints on a map.

"Yeah," Kurt says, looking self-conscious about it as he tries to put a hand up over his face.

Blaine pulls his hand out of the way and kisses the tip of his nose.

"I can't believe I never noticed that before. I've spent months staring at your face, your body — all day long and I never noticed. How could I miss that?" His voice is low and soft, an intimate whisper of precious words.

"Good makeup artist, I guess," Kurt teases, a light blush making some of his freckles more prominent than before and obscuring others.

"No, I like this better," Blaine says, his eyes searching Kurt's face as if he's trying to memorize it. "I can see _you_. The parts you never show anyone else."

"It's still me," Kurt says, ducking his head shyly.

Blaine places a finger under his chin and tilts his head up. Kurt's eyes meet his and it's like the world is laid at his feet. He's never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

"Yes, and I love you," Blaine says.

"Even when I'm bitchy and jealous."

"Especially then," Blaine says, looping his hands tight and low around Kurt's waist. "We might never have become friends if you hadn't been such a bitch that first day."

"Well someone's eyes were bugging out of his head and acting like a complete weirdo."

"I couldn't help it," Blaine says. "This incredibly sexy man had just walked into my life and I didn't know what to do."

Kurt rolls his eyes, but it's playful. Then his expression turns serious.

"I love you too, you know," he says.

Blaine smiles because those are the best words he's ever heard. Music to his ears. He feels giddy and silly and ready to burst from it.

"Good to know," he says. "Otherwise it would be pretty forward of me to ask you to come inside on our first date."

~fin~

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thanks for sticking with me through this roller coaster ride. I've had so much fun reading your reactions as you went on this journey with Kurt and Blaine. I have a feeling (because of the nature of limited POV) that you all have a lot of lingering questions, most especially about Kurt's behavior. So please message me here, and I'm happy to answer them. I'll be doing a Q&A on my Tumblr (randomactsofdouchebaggery) and at some point, I'll be writing some one-shots from Kurt's POV. I have *pages* of headcanon on Kurt and Sebastian. Even some thoughts on Tina and some of the other characters. ;)

To those of you who have commented, thank you. Your kind words made my day many times.

I think my next fic might be a period piece. More to come soon! Besos.


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